Caught in the Middle
by Wynjamor
Summary: After the battle, the knights celebrate. Meanwhile Auria has to deal with unrest within the settlement, and events just go from bad to worse...
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Since King Arthur and his Knights are historical figures, I don't think a disclaimer is necessary, but since I'm following the film's portrayal of them, here's one anyway. No copyright infringement is intended. There.

A/N: Since my dark ages history isn't exactly up to scratch, I apologise right now for all the inaccuracies there doubtless are. I've done a bit of research and apparently, around 500AD, the Irish were invading Wales and Scotland, and the Romans kept having to fight them. Arthur was supposed to have defeated them on a number of occasions. I wondered what happened to the people that were already living in Wales under Roman occupation – they must have been annoyed when they had both Romans and Irish to contend with. This story is about one Welsh tribe who lived near the English border, and their interaction with the Romans under the growing threat of an Irish incursion.

Caught in the Middle

"What say you, Roman?" The warrior spat the last word and pressed the tip of their sword deeper into the man's neck. "How many?"

The Roman captain's erratic breathing slowed long enough for him to gasp; "Four hundred!"

"Is that all?" the warrior replied, voice cold and taunting.

"Y...yes. They are thought to be enough!"

The Roman was scared – terrified even. His shoulders heaved beneath his armour, and his hands by his sides were shaking. The warrior sneered – he would speak the truth to save his skin. Despite that, he deserved to die like all the rest...

Suddenly, the warrior's companion gave a cry of warning. He pointed towards a hill half a league distant, and the warrior saw several banners cresting the top. Horsemen followed – Roman knights, although they weren't in full armour. They halted at the top of the hill and seemed to survey the scene below them.

The warrior waited, barely breathing. The man who had shouted – Ganal, was helping an injured Daneth into his saddle, keeping one eye on the new arrivals. The tip of the warrior's sword still placed an uncomfortable pressure on the captain's neck. He, on seeing the knights, drew a sharp breath, knowing that his fate was about to be decided.

Planting their banners in the soft turf of the hill, the Roman knights spurred their mounts.

"It looks like you'll live to tell that four hundred men won't suffice after all" the warrior said, sheathing their sword next to its twin on their back. With one graceful movement, they swung into a dark horse's saddle and urged it round to face the other two men. "Move quickly – here comes a fight we would not win so easily"

Arthur Castus and his knights were actually beginning to enjoy their new mission. They had been sent south for once, to the Welsh border, where the weather was milder and so far, the fighting had been non-existent. It was a welcome change.

"You know" Bors said, breaking a silence which had reigned since they'd broken camp that morning. "I reckon it's all stories – there ain't anyone raiding this border except Romans. We 'aven't seen one Irish or Welsh all week"

"We haven't got to the border yet" Lancelot replied.

"An' when we do see a Welshman" Bors continued. "I bet they'll all ride little tiny 'orses. Welsh 'orses are tiny, aren't they? Like dogs?"

Gawain began to laugh at the image as they rode up a steep hillside – one of many marking the valley-country.

As they crested the top, a sudden sight caused them to halt as one, stomachs tightening and breath catching. In the valley below them a company of Roman soldiers lay dead, scattered armour and swords glistening in the evening sunlight.

One man, dark-haired and clad in dull greens and browns, was helping another to his feet. Nearby, a dark figure stood over a Roman soldier, blade in hand and ready to deal the killing blow. Three horses, lacking Roman trappings, stood nervously amongst the dead.

"What were you saying about tiny horses?" Galahad remarked, before Arthur gave the command to charge.

It was the knights' duty to defend Romans, and here on their first meeting of Roman soldiers, they were too late. The marauding parties they'd heard so much about had finally been glimpsed, but even as they advanced at a gallop down the hillside, the three figures were mounting their own steeds and urging them towards a distant belt of trees.

As they reached the battlefield, the Roman officer got to his feet. His face was pale and sweaty – the sweat mingling with a splatter of blood across his jaw. Arthur drew up his horse within feet of the man, and the six knights gathered behind him.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded, surveying the scene. The scent of blood and death hung heavy in the air.

"The Welsh" the Captain said, eyes flickering to his dead men.

"An ambush?"

"No, we surprised them resting"

"How many?"

The Captain's face fell slightly, and he cleared his throat.

"Three"

Arthur's face remained impassive, but just to his left, Lancelot smirked.

"Three men slayed your entire company of...twelve?"

The Roman shook his head. "Two men"

"You said three" Arthur reminded.

The Roman nodded. "Their leader was a woman"

Lancelot looked curiously up the slope towards the trees the Welsh had made for. They had just reached them and were cutting left towards the next valley. Arthur hadn't given the order to pursue them, but he knew that they could probably catch them if they set off now.

Two figures rode close together in front, cutting through the foremost trees at a near-gallop. The third warrior, a few horse-lengths behind, came out of the treeline and the gathering dusk, and looked back towards the battlefield. For a brief moment, Lancelot saw a stream of long dark hair caught by the breeze. He had an uneasy feeling that the eyes of the woman lighted on him, before she returned to the trees and was lost from view in their shadow.

That night, the knights and the Roman captain sat around a campfire, eating stew and drinking ale from large tankards. The mood was tense and curious – all were occupied by thoughts of a few hours earlier, except for their trusty squire, who was busy settling the horses for the night. Tristan had been sent to scout after the Welsh warriors, and he had just returned from his mission. Bors offered him some ale, which he took as he sat down.

"What did you find?" Arthur asked, his voice as calm as ever.

"They went south" Tristan said, "and quickly. They probably thought we would follow them"

"We should 'ave done" Bors said. "Could've given 'em hell"

"It was not our fight" Arthur pointed out. "We must report to Tolimus as ordered, and he is still two days' ride away"

"It makes you wonder though" Gawain said. "Three of the Welsh taking out an entire company of foot soldiers. And one a woman"

Lancelot leaned back against his tree-stump and smiled. "We heard tales of a Welshwoman, remember? A warrior – skilled, untameable..."

"Beautiful...?" Bors remarked, and the knights all laughed at Lancelot's musings.

"I'm just saying – we shouldn't be surprised that their women fight. The woads are the same"

"Lancelot's right" Arthur said. "Today was our wake-up call. This land may be harsher than we've been led to believe"

"Well, I'm sure we'll get to see their worth soon enough" Gawain said. "Once we report to Tolimus he'll tell us to kill all the Welsh we want, women or no"

Galahad scowled. "It's always the same...when will we ever be told not to kill?"

"Only a few months till our freedom, lad" Bors reassured him, handing across another tankard of ale. The younger knight sighed and began to drink.

The Roman captain had stayed silent throughout the meal, but now he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer to the fire, staring into its depths.

"It's true"

A few knights looked at him, but most remained drinking or eating. Bors belched heartily and patted his stomach.

"What's true?"

"The tales of the Welshwoman. She's real."

"Oh aye?" Bors said. "Tell us about 'er then. Is she really as beautiful as Lancelot

hopes?"

Gawain and Tristan sniggered, and the captain glanced at them.

"If you'd come any earlier you'd have seen for yourself"

There was silence around the campfire, and then Arthur spoke up.

"You mean she was the woman with the sword to your neck?"

"Yes. She's a battle-leader of one of the Welsh tribes, although they say she isn't Welsh by birth. It's true that their women fight...but no other woman has her status. She killed half my men alone at the end of her blade."

"Could she be Irish?" Arthur asked. At that time, the Irish were invading Britain all along the West coast, and clashing with the native Britons already in Wales, as well as with their Roman enemies.

The captain scoffed. "Not a chance – they Welsh hate the Irish more than we do"

"What is her name?"

"Auria. It means something about the sky, I think. Their tribe's leader is a wizard – a man of the Devil."

"Hmm" Bors sighed, sounding unconvinced.

"She's normally seen around Tolimus's camp – I wonder what she was doing this far north, and with only two men"

"Perhaps it wasn't her" Arthur said.

"Oh, it was her alright" the captain assured. "It couldn't have been anyone else. If you ever see her, be sure to give her my regards."

"Oh, I will" Lancelot grinned, earning a pat on the back from Gawain.

"No doubt we will hear more when we reach Tolimus" Arthur said, trying to close the conversation. He didn't need his men thinking on stories of strange Welsh women when they had a destination to reach. "We will break camp early again tomorrow – remember that when you drink your fourth mug of ale tonight, Bors"

Bors laughed. "Ale's a restorative – I can't ride without it"

Arthur smiled and got up, leaving the campfire for his bedroll. As he was laying down, Lancelot joined him and crouched on the ground.

"Arthur...do you think there is truth in what the Captain says?" His large brown eyes held a hint of worry – all week they'd been mocking the Roman's fear, joking that the men posted along the Welsh border were too superstitious and lacked the courage of the northern guards. Now it seemed that perhaps they had a right to be afraid.

"Perhaps" Arthur said, meeting his friend's gaze. "Set a watch for tonight – we can only be vigilant and hope we don't meet trouble before we get to the fort"

Lancelot nodded, and with one last look into his leader's eyes, stood and returned to the fire.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! I know this fic isn't really legend-based. I mean, there are so many variations on the legend that it could be pretty difficult anyway. I hope it's alright as a stand-alone piece, since it takes place before the film and its therefore just speculation (to be honest, I guess the film is just speculation too, albeit with some credibility). Just one note – anything in bold indicates thoughts. I hope it shows up on here because sometimes has trouble with that sort of thing. Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 2

Auria and her companions rode deep into the night, only stopping to rest a few hours before dawn. Dismounting her horse just off the woodland track, the warrior peered back into the gloom, senses alert for the merest hint of danger. Ganal helped Daneth to dismount, and the two men looked to her for reassurance.

"Get that wound seen to" she told Daneth. "I'll unsaddle the horses – we can afford to rest for a while, I think. If they were tracking us, they would have caught up by now"

Daneth sat down heavily, grimacing in pain as the slash in his leg began to bleed once again. "They could be waiting for us to stop"

"They were Roman knights – they wouldn't wait for us to stop when they could have overtaken and defeated us hours ago. Besides, I'm sure they have better things to do than chase Britons all night"

Ganal had knelt next to Daneth and was searching in his pack for herbs to lessen the other man's pain. He looked up at Auria, a thoughtful expression on his dark face.

"I didn't think they had knights on the border"

"No..." Auria mused. **Neither did I...** "Perhaps they were just posted here. They have knights up at Hadrian's Wall after all"

Ganal frowned. "I hope they don't start to cause trouble – they say the knights at the Wall have never been defeated in battle"

Auria grinned. "Arturius' knights are more legend than fact. Those stories travel hundreds of leagues before they reach us, after all. Even if they are true, I doubt any other band of Roman knights can match them. We may have to meet these men in some other battle, but they are just Romans."

Daneth barked a laugh, then yelped as Ganal applied something stinging. "Today we were just three, tomorrow we will be many"

"Exactly"

Auria finished unsaddling the horses and built a small fire, over which she and Ganal cooked rabbit they'd caught the day before. Daneth fell asleep almost immediately after eating, and she looked at him in concern. Ganal caught her gaze.

"It's not deep" he said. "He'll recover"

Auria nodded. She had been sent north with the two men under her command three days earlier, to discover Roman troop movements along the border. More had been gathering from the north than ever before – the Welsh leaders thought that maybe they were strengthening their control of the Welsh border, but whether it was to suppress the Irish invasion or to tighten their control over the Welsh natives, no-one knew.

After travelling north for two days, the three warriors had finally reached the camp the Romans had set up near the edge of the border. Soldiers had come down from Pict country, and talk was that more would be coming in the future. After learning this Auria had struck out for home, only to run into the band of Roman soldiers she'd just had a hand in killing. Their captain had proved most useful in telling what he knew of Roman plans – it seemed that 400 of the troops stationed at the large camp would be sent down the border to strengthen Tolimus's fortress. To the West of this stronghold was Welsh territory...Auria's territory.

She sighed as she lay down on the cold ground, wrapping her dark cloak around her slender form. More Romans were all they needed – with the Irish pushing inland from the coast times were dark enough as it was. The native Welsh found themselves trapped between two separate enemies, and it seemed as if they'd have to give in to one or the other. Auria's tribe were lucky in that they were so far inland – they only had the distant threat of the Irish kingdoms – Romans were their main concern.

It was strange, she thought, that Roman command felt that Hadrian's Wall could continue with less troops. Perhaps the Picts had given up fighting, or perhaps they knew more about the Irish invasion than she did...

Head filled with these uneasy thoughts, Auria fell into a troubled sleep.

The day dawned misty and cold – water vapour clung to everything, and the horses snorted in protest as they jogged along between the trees. Thanks to riding hard all the night before, Auria and her men came within sight of the fortress just after noon, and headed south-west from the landmark. Only a league distant they struck upon familiar tracks, and quickly reached the large clearing which currently housed their village.

Scouts had spotted them from the fortress and flanked them all the way back, so that as they entered the settlement, their leader was waiting to greet them.

Auria dismounted as a sign of respect to the tall man who stood before his shelter. With dark hair and eyes, Lindon was most definitely a Welshman. However, his fine features suggested nobility, and Auria always thought that was how he managed to carry the role of leader so well, despite the fact that he was only some fifteen years older than she – young for a village elder. He raised a hand in greeting and Auria returned the gesture.

"You return with news?" he asked in the Welsh language. Auria nodded.

"More troops are massing to the north, but only four hundred make plans to march to the fortress. They will be here within five days."

Lindon nodded, thoughtful, and looked to Ganal and Daneth. His eyes narrowed.

"You are injured"

"Yes" Daneth said, standing gingerly. Lindon made a motion with his hand, and a woman came forwards from the small crowd that had gathered and helped him to a nearby shelter. Lindon looked to Auria, a question in his eyes.

"We met with some Roman soldiers yesterday" she explained. "It was their captain told us of the troops that are to come here."

"Did you let him live?"

Auria knew that Lindon was considering the option that someone may have survived to tell others of the Welsh and their movements. It was an ongoing battle to outsmart the Romans and remain hidden from their reach. A tension gripped her stomach – she let the man live, when common sense dictated she should have killed him. By her silence, she knew that Lindon would already have guessed the truth. She forced herself to meet his gaze...at least she could try and explain her actions.

"Yes. We were discovered by Roman knights – seven, on horseback. We could not have faced them in combat – we had to flee"

Lindon looked to Ganal for confirmation, and the young man nodded his assent. "I haven't seen the likes of them before"

"Do you know where they came from?"

Auria shook her head, but she'd given the matter a lot of thought on the way home and could make a good guess.

"Perhaps they were making for the fortress. It is the only building within four days' ride that would be fit for knights to reside in"

Lindon pursed his lips. "I will think on the matter. Thank you, Auria...Ganal. Welcome home"

He turned to enter his shelter, effectively dismissing his warriors. Ganal's woman was now free to rush forward from the crowd and embrace her lover, and did so with abandon. Auria smiled as Ganal rolled his eyes in mock-protest, and took her horse by the reins, leading it over to her own shelter which was set a little apart from the main body of the settlement.

After unsaddling the stallion she sighed and stretched her arms above her head, wincing at the small cracks her spine made – riding was strenuous work. She unclasped her cloak and stepped into her shelter to undress – before she'd got past her sword-belt, there was a soft knock on the door-post.

"Auria?"

It was Elen, her friend-in-arms-and-drinking, and Auria grinned.

"Come in"

The tall dark woman, clad in a light green dress, pushed back the door-covering and entered the small room which, like the rest of the shelters, was created with tree-branches and swathes of material. She automatically began to help Auria take off the leather jerkin and light armour she wore.

"How was it?" she asked. "How were Daneth and Ganal?"

"Fine" Auria said. "They behaved themselves...it was quite simple, except for the Romans we killed"

"Did you really see some knights?" Elen's voice held not a little wonder, and Auria understood why. Roman knights, with their huge horses and gleaming armour, were talked of in stories, not seen in real life. Auria herself was the first one in the settlement to steal a Roman horse and introduce something akin to the knight's method of fighting – it was how she'd gained her status as a warrior and a leader in battle. She smiled at her friend and said;

"Yes. A whole band of them."

"Are they as noble as they say?"

"I didn't really get a good look, I was too busy running away!"

Elen sniggered. "Pity" She sniffed. "You know, you could really do with a bath"

Auria frowned and sniffed her arm. "Hmm...I don't smell that bad..."

"You've been around men too long"

"They don't notice!"

"That's because they smell terrible themselves. To them, you're probably like a rare, delicate flower"

"But to you?"

Elen grimaced. "A few things spring to mind...mudpools...Lindon's potions...latrines..."

Auria gasped and swatted at the other woman. "I do not!"

Elen laughed. "Maybe not _that_ bad..."

"Hmph" Auria snorted, pulling off her last item of clothing.

"I washed these while you were gone" Elen said, and Auria noticed for the first time the bundle she'd brought with her. In it were some brown breeches and a green woollen jerkin, which laced up at the front with a leather thong. Auria grinned and picked them up.

"What would I do without you?"

"Smell like a latrine _all_ the time?"

Auria laughed and donned the clothing, much to Elen's dismay.

"You'll get it dirty again! You could at least bathe first!"

"I'll bathe later!" Auria protested, raking her fingers through her hair. "Right now I'm hungry, and thirsty, and _you_ have to tell me what's been going on these past four days. Come on!"

Grabbing Elen's hand, she pulled her out of the shelter and towards the communal campfire in the middle of the clearing, returning the hails of the other villagers who quickly offered to slake her thirst with freshly-brewed ale.


	3. Chapter Three

The rest of the ride to Tolimus' fortress on the Welsh border passed uneventfully, apart from Bors' horse falling lame within sight of the walls and him having to walk next to their squire and the Roman captain for the rest of the way.

A village spread out before the fort on the Roman side, where some 500 troops were stationed, and where the people who served them had made their homes. Tents and dubious-looking huts scattered the land, and smoke from cooking fires carried welcome smells to the noses of Arthur's knights. The fort itself was almost as big as the one at Hadrian's Wall – stonework some three stories high and several feet thick was broken only by arrow-slits and a huge oak gate.

Crossing the threshold, the knights entered a large courtyard and were met by several Roman soldiers in full regalia, who stood saluting them. A smaller man stepped forward, also fully-armed, and raised a hand in greeting to Arthur who sat at the front of his men.

"Welcome" he said, his Latin slightly accented. "I am Petrarchus Tolimus, General of this fortress and commander of the Welsh border troops"

"I am Arturius Castus" Arthur said, using his full given name – a sign that he was asserting his status at the Roman.

"Yes" Tolimus smiled, but his eyes remained impassive. "I trust your journey went well?"

"Not quite" Arthur motioned the Roman captain forwards. Tolimus saw him and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Proctimus?"

"General" the captain bowed slightly, looking nervous. He obviously wasn't expected back so soon. "My men were overtaken and killed by the Devil's Welshwoman two days ago. Arturius and his knights saved me from a similar fate. The woman, however, remains at large"

Tolimus's face reddened, but he managed to control his anger. His jaw clenched, he looked back up at Arthur.

"I thank you for that service" he said through gritted teeth, "although if you had killed or captured the woman it would have been greater"

"She was already out of our reach by the time we got there" Arthur said, and Lancelot's eyes flickered to the older man. As he remembered, she could easily have been pursued...

Tolimus accepted Arthur's word, however, and motioned for his guards to take the knights' horses.

"Well" he shrugged, seeming to gather himself together. "Now that you are arrived, you must be weary. I will have your horses stabled and you will be shown to your quarters. Tonight is yours to spend as you wish, but tomorrow you will report to the main chamber and learn why you are here"

Bors bristled as a soldier reached for the reins he was holding, and at this – quite frankly – puny Roman General telling them what to do, but Arthur replied; "As you wish" and Bors gave way to the soldier. Co-operation would certainly be easier than punching the man's lights out.

A quick look to their squire told Arthur that their horses and arms would be well looked-after, so he dismounted and led his knights after a Roman soldier who said he would take them to their rooms. Because of their status they were to be housed inside the fortress, with a small room each to themselves.

Gawain smiled as he looked out of his tiny slit of a window, at the rolling Welsh countryside in the afternoon sun.

"I tell you what" he said to Galahad, who had followed him into the room. "It beats the Wall"

"It's smaller" Galahad said.

"It's got a larger village" Gawain argued. "That probably means more supplies. More food, more ale..."

"More women?"

"That too!"

The two men laughed and deposited everything they wouldn't need for eating and drinking that night, before heading back out to the courtyard to get a feel for the place.

Like most Roman garrisons, nightfall saw the emergence of off-duty soldiers, tradesmen and people from the surrounding camp, all looking for food, entertainment, and a quick profit. Tolimus liked to keep the fort and the camp separate as much as possible – he didn't want his battlements overrun by children and prostitutes – but he allowed some of the more reputable locals inside the walls to service his men.

Gawain and Galahad stepped out into the midst of the bustle, and simultaneously spied a nearby food stand. Grinning, Gawain led the way over.

"What'll it be, lads?" the grizzled, fat man behind the counter said, his cheeks flushed from the bottle he held in one paw. In the other he brandished a large carving knife, and all around him hung roasting meat, whose juices spattered his grimy apron.

"Whatever you've got" Gawain said, "and lots of it"

"Right you are" the trader said, and a minute later handed over two platters filled with meat, dripping and hunks of bread. It looked good and smelled even better. Galahad grimaced.

"How much?"

"Nothing lad! Ole' Tolimus pays my fee!"

Galahad grinned widely. "A thousand thanks to his Generalship!"

"Aye! I take it you're not from around 'ere?"

"We aren't" Gawain said, his mouth full. "But so far we've enjoyed your hospitality"

"Did I 'ear 'ospitality'?" a new voice boomed, and Bors suddenly appeared, slapping Galahad on the back so hard he spat out the meat he was chewing. The huge man inhaled deeply and sighed. "Smells bootiful – can I 'ave some?"

"Aye!" The trader busied himself shovelling food onto a platter and Bors turned to his fellows.

"They have ale over there makes our stuff taste like piss!"

Gawain looked thoughtful. "I thought our stuff _was_ piss..."

Bors humpfed. "Piss is too expensive. I'm goin' to drink like I 'aven't drunk in weeks!"

Gawain and Galahad exchanged glances. They both knew what that meant.

"Your dinner, lordship" the trader said, taking a swig from his bottle at the same time as pushing the plate over. Bors looked him up and down as he took the food.

"I'm goin' to drink till I look like 'im"

"You already do!" Galahad cried, then dodged a heavy-handed blow.

"Take that back, I'm far more pretty"

"You sound like Lancelot" Gawain said, then heard a cough behind him. "Oh...hello, Lancelot..."

"Good evening" Lancelot said sweetly, as if he were at a formal dinner, not in the middle of a soldiers' camp. His eyes, however, promised a surprise death for Gawain

later on. "Has anyone seen Arthur?"

"Err...no" Bors said. "Food?"

Lancelot shook his head, holding up the tankard he held as if to say good ale was enough for his hunger. "I wonder where he can be..."

"You know what he's like, he's probably making battle plans for tomorrow" Gawain said. Galahad looked confused.

"We don't even know what we're doing tomorrow"

Gawain grinned. "Exactly"

"Come on Lancelot, don't pine...come and 'ave a look at those fresh-faced young maidens with me" Bors nodded to the other side of the courtyard, and Lancelot laughed. Three women stood by the wall, looking over at the knights and giggling. To call them 'fresh-faced' or even 'young' was something of an exaggeration.

"Bors, what would your dear woman say if she knew I'd been unfaithful?"

Bors gave Lancelot a black look, but the other knight just smiled self-confidently and, with a salute of his tankard, made his way over to a gaming table where four Roman soldiers welcomed him in like a brother.

Dagonet and Tristan, adequately supplied with food and drink, sat in a shadowy corner of the courtyard with the Roman captain and the Lieutenant who'd shown them to their rooms earlier. Two foot-soldiers also graced the table, but they'd been drinking far longer than their companions and were in no fit state to take part in conversation. The captain downed the rest of his ale and waved for some more to be brought over.

"I'll probably get reassigned" he said, his voice a little slurred. "But you can't forget almost being slaughtered like that...it would 'ave been better if I'd died with my men"

"You won't be punished though" the Lieutenant reassured him. "Everyone knows what 'appened"

"Everyone knows I couldn't 'old my own against a bleedin' woman"

The Lieutenant shook his head and looked to his ale. "Not any woman..."

Dagonet, normally stoic and silent, regarded the two men intently. "We heard rumours of a woman at Hadrian's Wall...could it be the same one?"

The Lieutenant looked up, interested. "Probably" he said. "If they said she was violent, bloodthirsty and unstoppable?"

Dagonet didn't crack a smile. "Something like that"

Tristan was thinking back on his tracking of the trio the day before – they'd been heading in the same direction as the knights, and it made him wonder about the chances of meeting them again. The captain seemed to be wallowing in self-despair, so he addressed himself to the other Roman.

"Does she live near here?"

The man shrugged. "They move their camp so we can't keep track of them...but they stay in this area. Bloody nuisance they are. Maybe that's why you're here – to get rid of 'em once and for all"

"I thought we were here to suppress the Irish" Tristan said. Although they hadn't really been told the nature of their mission, recent reports about invasions on the west coast suggested that the Irish had a lot to do with their being sent there.

The Lieutenant shrugged. "Who am I to say? The Irish aren't the biggest threat around 'ere...the Welsh are"

"We'll find out tomorrow" Dagonet said, his voice low. Tristan nodded and concentrated back on his ale. For some reason, he couldn't quite get into the mood to make merry that night. Maybe it was the long day's march, or the fact that he usually knew what was going on before he arrived at a new post. Whatever, he resolved to try and drink himself out of his gloom.

Suddenly, a raucous cry behind them caused them to turn and look to where Lancelot was quickly standing from a gaming table.

"What's he done now?" Tristan mused as he saw the other knight raise his hands in a placating gesture.

"I'm afraid I'll have to step out, friends" Lancelot could be heard saying. "Before my luck runs out"

"It's already run out!" one of the soldiers cried, and pulled out a blade threateningly.

He'd barely unsheathed it before he found a sword at his neck.

"Think carefully before you hurt yourself" a deep voice cautioned, and Tristan suddenly noticed that Arthur had appeared.

The Roman soldier froze, and one look at Lancelot's intense gaze told him this was one fight he didn't want to start. He slowly sheathed his weapon and backed down, sitting again on a stool around the gaming table. Lancelot stepped forwards to join Arthur.

"Causing trouble already?" Arthur said, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. Lancelot grinned.

"Just making my saddlebag heavier. Where have you been?"

"Around" Arthur said. "On the walls"

Lancelot raised an eyebrow. For all that he knew Arthur better than anyone, there were some things about the man he'd never understand. He studied him closely, trying to get a clue as to what he was up to.

"Find anything?"

Arthur shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Not really"

"Well, now that you're here, won't you join us in a drink?" Gawain said. He'd come over on seeing his leader and picked up another tankard on the way. Arthur accepted it gratefully.

"Just what I needed. How do you like the place?"

"There's food, ale, women, and I have my own room" Gawain grinned. "Don't have to listen to Bors snoring all night. Couldn't ask for more!"

Arthur and Lancelot laughed, and toasted the hospitality of Tolimus. From their shadowy corner behind the trio, Tristan and Dagonet fell back on their thoughts as their Roman companions sank further into oblivion.


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Sorry it's been a while since the last update – I've been busy waiting for my exam results to be released. Finally got them this morning – I did pretty well except for missing the grade I needed in maths by ONE MARK. Ouch. My university wouldn't let me onto the course I'd been accepted for (because of one crappy mark), but offered me a similar one so I took it. UCL here I come...

Anyway, to the story...

Chapter Four

The next morning, Arthur and his knights gathered in the main chamber of Tolimus' fortress to wait for an audience with the General. They did not have to wait long – Tolimus entered the long room, flanked by two soldiers who took up posts in the doorway, and clasped arms with Arthur in a traditional greeting.

"I trust you rested well?"

"Indeed" Arthur replied. His knights had rested so well that half of them were hung-over. Gawain, Galahad and Tristan sat out of the reach of the sunlight which came in through a small window. Bors and Dagonet sat silently together, having stronger constitutions. Only Lancelot seemed his usual self, regarding the Roman General appraisingly from a nearby chair.

"Well" Tolimus said, sitting himself down at the head of the rectangular oak table. "I shall tell you why you are here"

Arthur smiled slightly. "Please, do"

The General ignored any insinuation he could have drawn from the knight's reply, and clasped his hands before him on the table.

"You may already know that the Irish have been settling in Wales, trying to consolidate a kingdom...they have been causing us trouble, but up until now we have had a barrier against them. The native Britons, although trouble themselves, hate the Irish perhaps even more than we do, and so far have been able to repel much of their invasion"

Arthur nodded – he knew all this already, so Tolimus continued.

"Recently an Irish leader, Hywel, landed on the west coast and defeated the Welsh in battle, creating a large Irish kingdom. They are now marching inland, in greater numbers than ever before, and the Britons will not be able to stop them. We, also, are not enough to stand against them...which is why you have been sent here"

"To suppress the Irish" Arthur said.

"Same as Picts, just with a different accent" Bors said gruffly, making Gawain grin.

"What about the Britons?" Arthur asked. "What happens to them while we're fighting the Irish?"

Tolimus's face darkened. "They must be taken care of...we cannot have them taking advantage of our position whilst our attention is elsewhere"

"Yeah" Bors said. "I 'ate it when that 'appens"

Arthur shot him a warning glance, and he quieted down, not without sharing a knowing look with a couple of the other knights. It was quite obvious what they thought of the Roman.

"So what would you like us to do first?" Arthur said. "Defeat the Welsh or the Irish?"

"The Welsh are difficult foes...they live in the woods, and fight in them. We can rarely draw them out into open battle, but I think there is a way to break their spirit. They have two leaders – a man named Lindon, who is their master in all things, and the woman named Auria, who leads them in battle and has caused me more trouble than I care to mention"

Arthur remembered something from the night before, and said;

"That's why you said we should have killed her yesterday"

Tolimus nodded. "Yes – if she were killed, or captured, the Welsh would not fight with such vigour. I want you to find her, or the leader, Lindon, and bring them to me. Failing that, kill them"

"What about the Irish?" Lancelot asked.

"The Irish will not make their move for more than a week. We have time to break the Britons before then"

"You said that the men in your fortress won't be enough to fight the Irish?" Arthur wondered.

"Four hundred troops arrive in two days. Then we will be enough."

Arthur nodded. It seemed a simple enough mission – neutralise the local threat and then turn his attention to the Irish foe. However...

"Why couldn't you have caught this woman or her leader before now?" he asked.

Tolimus's face reddened slightly. "We...ah...have tried. But without success."

Bors looked at Gawain and grinned. Lancelot raised an eyebrow.

"We must try harder then" he said.

"Yes...this is true" Tolimus agreed. "How you go about it is up to you. I would prefer them captured, but dead is just as good. If you kill them, be sure to bring me their bodies as proof"

Arthur looked at him. "You would not believe us?"

Tolimus stood, ready to leave.

"No, I would hang them from the battlements as a message to their people"

Auria awoke late the next morning, feeling well-rested and content. She sat up, pulled off her blanket, and stretched, yawning.

Almost immediately, she was aware of the fact that she reeked. 6 days riding and a miniature battle could definitely be guessed from the way she smelt, and she resolved to do something about it immediately. She dressed, picked up a small bag of herbs and woodland plants which acted as soap, strapped on her swords and a dagger, and set out for the river.

Although Auria's people moved around to keep the Romans guessing, they stuck relatively close to the river which flowed through several of the valleys surrounding the fortress. There were four waterfalls Auria knew of, but she didn't make for the nearest one to bathe in. Instead, she went further afield, relying on her sense of direction until its roar could dimly be heard, and she followed the sound until she saw it through the trees. No-one was around at this time of day, so she undressed, laying her clothes and weapons on a large rock, and dove into the shady pool at the waterfall's feet.

Tristan and Lancelot had been sent out following the meeting with Tolimus, to try and find the habitation of the two they'd been charged to capture. Tristan, because of his tracking skills, and Lancelot because some local soldiers were still complaining of his 'trickery' at the gaming table the night before, and Arthur felt it prudent he should be out of the way for a while. He would have welcomed a day of rest, but it was always interesting to watch Tristan at work.

The two knights rode some way due west from the fortress, and then Tristan set his hawk free, after giving the bird some words of advice. Lancelot watched the creature soar towards a belt of trees, and turned to his friend.

"Sometimes I think you prefer that bird to people"

Tristan's eyes were following the hawk, and he didn't look at Lancelot when he replied;

"That bird is more useful than most people"

"What now?"

"We follow it"

He led the way across the valley, keeping the hawk in sight as it wheeled above the trees, searching for habitation. It would look for a site with sufficient food and water, and that would naturally be an area in which people had settled. The two knights rode quietly through the woods, ever alert for danger, but they met with no-one, and soon the noise of a river could be heard crashing over rocks.

"A waterfall" Lancelot remarked, somewhat needlessly. Tristan was already making his way forward, and whispered back;

"They may have settled near the river"

Both men dismounted, the better not to be seen as they continued towards the cataract. Often, people made for a waterfall to wash clothes, gather water and bathe, and if there were a settlement nearby, chance dictated there would be human activity. This was just a scouting mission after all – if they were seen it could ruin things later on.

Auria swam leisurely for several minutes, then grabbed her cloth bag and made for the waterfall itself. Standing under its cooling spray, she lathered the herbs and rubbed them all over her body, removing all the accumulated dirt, grime, sweat and blood. She then worked them through her hair and rinsed it off, revelling in the fresh, clean smell and the feel of water falling onto her bare skin.

Thoroughly refreshed, she squeezed her hair out and went over to her bundle of clothes, which she donned. She sat down on the rock with a sigh and picked up a sword, unsheathing it and examining the dirty blade. It needed cleaning.

Resting the flat of the blade comfortably on her knee, she took a damp cloth and started to draw it along the blade, removing dried blood and tarnish. As her reflection started to show through, she considered that it needed sharpening too. Under her breath, she began to sing.

Lancelot crept forward through the trees, and the waterfall came into view. He and Tristan were on a high ledge at the top of the falls, and had a good view down to the pool below. What they saw surprised them both, and made Lancelot break into a wide grin.

A young woman sat with her back to them on the edge of the pool, barefooted, in a thin shirt and breeches, manipulating something with her hands that was obscured from their view by her body. Tristan sucked in a breath.

"If we'd got here sooner we might have had a better view"

He looked at Lancelot and they shared a grin. The woman's hair was wet – she'd obviously just been bathing.

"I think we've found one of the Britons" Lancelot said. "Shall we go and say hello?"

"No" Tristan replied. "We should follow her – she'll lead us to the settlement"

Lancelot nodded – it was a good plan. He turned back to watch the woman. Not that he could see her face, but from his viewpoint everything about her seemed to be in good order. She was dark-haired, slender, and...

Cleaning a sword?

As the woman turned to admire her handiwork in the sunlight, Lancelot frowned. Their women fought, so it followed that they carried weapons, but still...

"That's her!" Tristan hissed.

"What?"

"The woman! Auria!"

Lancelot looked back down at the woman. She had sheathed the sword and picked up another, identical one from the rock beside her. It was true that the woman they were to capture carried two swords...

"Are you sure?" Tristan had excellent eyesight, and if he said it was Auria, then it was Auria. Lancelot just couldn't quite believe they'd stumble upon her so soon.

"As sure as the sun" Tristan said. "What shall we do?"

Lancelot knew that he had to make a decision. Either they captured her now and took her back to the fort, or let her lead them to the settlement and returned later with the rest of the knights to launch an assault. They couldn't capture her and rely on Tristan's hawk to find the settlement afterwards – they'd have to take her straight back to the fort. Her people would realise she was missing before Arthur's men could return to look for the settlement, and although she was a valuable prize, leaving her alone for now could yield a greater one.

"Follow her" Lancelot said. "We can return later with Arthur and the men to take both her and her leader"

Tristan nodded, and they watched whilst Auria picked up a whetstone and began to sharpen her blades. Tristan chuckled.

"If we were for capturing her, I fear we've missed our chance. Those blades could deliver a nasty sting now!"

Lancelot smiled wryly. "Yes, if she knows how to wield them..."

Tristan well knew Lancelot's views on women, but thought his friend might be wrong about this particular member of the fairer sex. He shrugged as if to say; 'Who knew'?

"Just ask those twelve dead Romans..."

Lancelot made a non-committal noise, and they continued to watch until the woman finished her work and examined the sword again. Seemingly satisfied, she sheathed it and picked up the other one, strapping them both to her back, their belts making an X across her chest.

Still barefoot, she began to make her way away from the waterfall and into the trees. Lancelot and Tristan quickly mounted their horses and proceeded with all stealth after her.

As Auria finished sharpening her sword on the whetstone, she turned slightly to hold it up to the sunlight, studying the edge closely to look for notches or dull patches. As the iron caught the sun, the cliff behind her was well-reflected in the flat edge, and Auria's eyes were drawn to the blue of the sky, the lush green of the trees, and the two men who crouched near the edge of the cliff, looking down at her.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her muscles froze. She held her position for a few moments, as if admiring the blade, eyes fixed on the men in the reflection. They weren't her people – of that much she was certain. How long had they been there? If they wanted to kill her, they could have done it by now with a bow and arrow. However, she hadn't known they were there before – maybe if she acted as if nothing were wrong, they wouldn't bother her.

She brought the sword back down to her lap and started to sharpen it again, forcing her hands to work against the jitters which suddenly rushed through her body, calling for her to run, or jump up and confront the men. After a minute she held the blade up to the light again, being careful to hold it at the same angle as before. The men were still there, still watching.

They had to be Roman – they were the only other people in these valleys. If Romans were watching her, without intent to kill her, they must be waiting for her to lead them to the settlement...

She sheathed the sword and smiled grimly. She'd lead them somewhere, alright...

Tristan led Lancelot on a winding path through the trees, trusting to his instincts to track the woman. She walked purposefully but leisurely in a south-westerly direction, stopping twice to pick some herbs. The knights kept their horses silent, and out of sight, until they were sure that the settlement couldn't possibly be much further.

Lancelot glanced to Tristan – the man's eyes were intent upon his prey. Surely she couldn't have walked much farther just to bathe?

Suddenly, Tristan made a motion with his hand, and they stopped. Up ahead, Auria had picked up the pace and was now running through the brush. They could see a break in the trees – probably the site of the settlement.

Lancelot dismounted once again, and again he crept forward. His brows drew together as no tents or shelters came into view. Instead, beyond the trees there just seemed to be empty air. Tristan joined him, and together they passed the last tree....

The ground below their feet dropped away for dozens of feet, becoming nothing but bare earth and stone. It was a huge break in the forest, surrounded by trees – the site of an ancient quarry, long disused...and long empty.

Lancelot looked at Tristan.

"I don't think this is the settlement..."

Tristan's eyes were hurriedly scanning the quarry and the treeline. He swore under his breath.

"I've lost her"

"What?"

"It's bare stone...she was ahead of us and unless she's returned to the woods, she'll have left no tracks"

Lancelot took this in, thoughts making themselves known in his head. Unpleasant thoughts.

"She must have returned to the woods..."

"No...there are plenty of places to hide in here"

"She may have known we were following her"

Tristan's face was dark – that had occurred to him too. It also seemed the most likely explanation – Auria had led them on a wild goose chase. He swore again.

As the two men gazed out over the quarry, feeling more than a little indignant, a bird's cry was heard, and Tristan's hawk swooped down to land on his arm. Tristan gently stroked the creature.

"I wonder if you had better luck than we did, eh?"

The hawk merely pecked at his gloved hand for some food.

After one last look around the quarry, Lancelot turned back to the woods.

"Come one" he growled, "let's go back to the fortress"

He made a mental vow to get his own-back on the Briton. Few men showed him up like that, let alone women. He'd start well enough with her capture...

Auria broke into a run, bursting out of the trees and sliding down the steep wall of the quarry as fast as she could. She resisted the urge to cry out as a sharp rock drew a layer of skin from her bare foot. Reaching the bottom, she quickly ducked behind a boulder and concentrated on slowing her breathing, making as little noise as possible – she knew the two men weren't far behind, and would reach the treeline any second...

For several long seconds nothing could be heard except for the sigh of the gentle breeze. It was growing warm – the sun was breaking through the clouds, but luckily any shadow Auria cast was obscured by that of the boulder she crouched behind. She debated whether or not to risk a look towards the trees, her heart beating faster against her ribcage as indecision seized her.

She heard a noise on the wind, close-by...the murmur of voices, although she couldn't make out the words. The breeze dropped, and again there was nothing.

Someone was definitely up there, and all she could do was hope they wouldn't come down here looking for her.

The wind picked up again, and she heard a loud swearword in Latin. So, they were Romans after all.

The cry of a hawk turned her attention skywards, and she saw a bird circling down towards the trees. Normally birds wouldn't approach humans...unless this one were tame, she thought. As the bird descended it was lost from her view, and she waited once again, listening intently.

Nothing could be heard now...no voices, no footsteps...nothing.

Slowly, she raised her head above the boulder and scanned the treeline. The men were nowhere to be seen, and she prayed to all the gods that she'd waited long enough for them to leave – that they weren't just waiting for her to come out of hiding so they could follow her again, or perhaps kill her.

She scrambled back up the slope, wincing at the pain in her foot, stopping at the place she'd come through the trees. Just a few feet away were tracks leading back into the wood – footprints which turned into hoof-prints after a little way. The men had left after all. Auria felt relief course through her.


	5. Chapter Five

Arthur could tell by the look on Lancelot's face as he came into view that the sally had not gone as planned. He walked up to his friend as he dismounted and handed his horse's reins to their squire.

"What happened?"

Lancelot's frown deepened as he was forced to tell of his humiliation.

"We found the woman..."

There was a long silence, until Arthur prompted;

"But...?"

Tristan, having also dismounted, joined the two men. Seeing that Lancelot was sinking into one of his funks, he decided he'd better continue the story.

"She knew we were tracking her – she led us to a quarry instead of the settlement"

Arthur felt a little surprised, to say the least, that someone had got one over on his knights, but he had to look at this objectively.

"What happened then?"

"We lost her"

Arthur studied the men – Tristan looked more embarrassed then anything, and Lancelot looked as if he'd suffered a personal affront. He chuckled, slapping the latter on the arm. Lancelot looked up in bewilderment.

"It's not funny"

Although Arthur would certainly have preferred Auria's capture, the looks on his men's faces was just too much.

"Yes it is" he said in a low voice, as he saw Tolimus approaching. He drew back from the knights and faced the older man.

"Ah!" Tolimus cried. "I see your men have returned...bearing good news I hope?"

"Alas!" Arthur returned, "They could not find the settlement – it seems the...wind was blowing in the wrong direction. Perhaps tomorrow will yield more success"

Tolimus nodded. "Yes...to track one needs the right conditions. However, tomorrow I will not let failure off so lightly – I expect the settlement found one way or another"

Arthur bowed his head. "Of course, General"

Tolimus left, and Tristan turned to Arthur. "You know, you could have told him the truth..."

"It would have angered him further" Arthur explained. "He'd probably have cursed the woman's scheming and sent a battalion out after her immediately. I think to catch her we should be using subtlety..."

He gave Lancelot a pointed look, as if he just knew the amorous knight had been up to something. Lancelot looked back innocently.

"I'm telling you Arthur, she couldn't have known we were there – we weren't anywhere near her!"

"Although..." Tristan said, "...we almost caught her bathing"

Lancelot's eyes widened at his fellow, and he quickly protested;

"Not that we were _trying_ to..."

Arthur sighed. "Come...sit and have a drink with me. You can tell me all about it"

On her return to the settlement, Auria made straight for Lindon's shelter. He was having an audience with the Healer, so she waited impatiently outside until they were done. Elen came over, munching on an apple, and looked her up and down.

"You're clean!"

Auria smiled despite herself. "Yes...I believe I am!"

"Does Lindon want to speak with you?"

"No...I want to speak with him"

Elen frowned. "What about?"

No-one else in the settlement would pry so into Auria's business, and she wouldn't

suffer them to. With Elen, it was refreshing, however, and she valued the other woman's frankness in everything. She pulled her closer so that the guard who napped by the door wouldn't hear.

"I was spied on by two men down at the falls" she said. "They tried to follow me when I left, so I led them to the old quarry across the river"

Elen looked concerned. "Romans?"

"I think so...they spoke Latin, and they couldn't have been anyone else. They must have wanted me to lead them here"

Elen huffed. "They've tried it before...but never by spying on someone. How long were they watching you?"

Auria scowled. "I don't know...I was bathing"

"Do you think they saw...?"

"If they did I swear I'll kill them"

Elen nodded – if there was one thing about Auria that every man knew, it was that she never had, or would, take a mate. It was part of how she'd kept her power – she'd never allowed herself to be dominated by another.

Just then, the Healer stepped out of Lindon's shelter, and Auria entered after telling Elen she'd find her later. Lindon was reclining on a pile of furs, an empty plate next to him suggesting he'd just breakfasted.

"I hope that was a social visit?" Auria asked, nodding after the Healer. Lindon grimaced.

"Not so, I'm afraid. I have a terrible toothache"

Auria sat down cross-legged in front of him. "Get it pulled?"

"That's what the Healer said" Lindon sighed woefully. "Why we're cursed with teeth I'll never know. What brings you here, anyway?"

Auria repeated what she'd told Elen, but was more thorough this time, detailing everything that had happened after her catching sight of the Romans' reflection. Lindon remained calm, but his eyes betrayed that he was unnerved.

"First..." he mused, "...knights come to the fortress, and now we are spied upon. Could it be that the knights have come to do what the Romans failed to achieve?"

Auria bit her lip in thought. "It could just be a coincidence"

"There are no coincidences"

"Well...if it _was_ these knights, we can assume that they won't rest until they have found us. We must be more vigilant than ever..."

"Yes" Lindon agreed. "I will double the watch, and scouting parties. However, they were foiled today...they have not found us yet"

"So, there is no reason to move the settlement?"

"No...today was a warning, but they will have to cause us more heat before we burn"

Lindon seemed satisfied with his conclusion, and to Auria it seemed sound as well. Although the knights may have proved to be a new threat, today was obviously only a scouting mission. They'd only arrived the day before, after all.

She examined her fingernails as she mused on the new Romans – she had encountered them twice now – that morning and a few days previously when she let the Roman captain live. Both times they had outnumbered and out-armed her. She longed to face them in battle with her own horsemen, on equal terms, and she said as much to Lindon. The older man smiled.

"Perhaps you will, sooner than you think. We have other concerns, however..."

Auria looked up. "What do you mean?"

"The Irish are coming. They are four days' ride away"

"Four days?! Why did you not say sooner?" Suddenly the threat of the Romans seemed to pale in comparison. The Irish were certainly expected, but never so soon!

"If I had said sooner it would not have changed the inevitable" Lindon explained. "Besides, I only heard last night myself. I wanted to speak with you about it before I told anyone else"

"So...what are we to do? Prepare for battle?"

"They are three thousand..."

Auria's face fell. The settlement and any surrounding tribes who would stand with them numbered barely eight hundred, at most.

"Then we are doomed..."

Lindon's eyes twinkled. "Whilst there is life, there is hope. And you must not forget that the Romans also hold no love for the Irish"

"At least it explains why reinforcements are coming to the fortress"

"Yes...they wish to fight the Irish too."

Auria frowned. "We could let the Romans fight them...they have a greater chance of victory than we do"

"If they defeat the Irish, they would turn on us"

"So either way we are dead?"

Lindon was silent for a long time, then he shook his head and whispered;

"Perhaps not..."

Sometimes Lindon saw things that other people did not. It was why he was leader at such a young age. Auria wondered in this case just what he could possibly know...

"It's not often a woman gives you the slip, eh?" Gawain laughed, drawing a black look from Lancelot, at whom his comment was aimed.

"Unless it's the mother o' my bastards!" Bors said, and Lancelot couldn't resist a small smile.

"That's what she tells you" he said, and Bors grabbed for him.

"Now now, children" Galahad chided. "Why don't you sit down like civilised men and we can talk through Lancelot's rejection as if we were adults?"

The knights fell to laughing again, except Lancelot, whose scowl only deepened.

"We ain't civilised men" Bors said, taking a seat around a large table in the courtyard.

"At least, _you_ aren't" Gawan quipped.

"Barbarian and proud of it" Bors declared.

"So, was she in a state of undress?" Galahad asked, eyes shining. Tristan shook his head.

"No"

"What, you mean you didn't even 'ave the decency to sneak up on 'er starkers?" Bors exclaimed.

"Unfortunately not" Tristan replied. "It might have made up for what she did afterwards"

Even Dagonet was sniggering by this time, and when Arthur wandered over a few minutes later and heard what the conversation was about, he pressed a consolation mug of ale into Lancelot's hand and said into his ear;

"See, I told you it was funny!"

After a few drinks, even Lancelot began to see the comic side, and when the Roman scout thundered into the courtyard, horse sweating and frothing around the bit, he could barely stop snickering long enough to take notice of the commotion the man caused.

The Lieutenant who'd been their guide since their arrival at the fortress, and who seemed to be the one man who always knew what was going on, met the scout as he dismounted, and hurried words passed between the two.

Tristan was the first to sober up and take notice, his keen eyes comprehending that the looks on the men's faces did not bode well. The other knights, more in tune to Tristan's moods than anything else, realised something was amiss and began to take notice of what passed in the courtyard.

The Lieutenant hurried over to Arthur, barely concealing his worry.

"Sir!" he said, leaning down so others might not hear the alarm. "You must come with me immediately...something's happened"

Arthur got to his feet and asked;

"What is it?"

The Lieutenant glanced at the knights, and Arthur motioned for him to speak anyway – he didn't keep secrets from his men. The Roman lowered his voice anyway.

"It seems the Irish are coming. Now..."

"What?!" Gawain exclaimed, and Lancelot hushed him. Arthur gave the knights a pointed look – they were to say nothing until the situation became clear.

"We must find Tolimus" Arthur said, and the Lieutenant nodded.

"He'll be in his chambers. Follow me"

"Stay here" Arthur told Lancelot, who passed the message on to the others. Bors, Gawain and Galahad began grumbling, but they knew they had to do as they were told. Until they knew more, anyway.

Arthur and the Roman left with the scout to find Tolimus, who was in his chambers with a young lady of the camp. He opened the door to his room, half-dressed and red with anger.

"What do you want?!" he demanded, eyes blazing at the Lieutenant. The man remained calm in the face of his rage, and stepped aside so that Arthur was visible to the General. "Arturius?"

"Sir, a scout brings us news of the Irish"

Tolimus looked unimpressed, and through the half-open doorway Arthur saw the woman on his bed shift impatiently.

"And?"

"They have landed early and are marching inland." Arthur's face was grave. "They will be here in four days"

Tolimus stared at the taller man for a long moment, expecting him to break into a grin and announce it all a joke. When he didn't, the General's face turned pale.

"Four days?"

"Yes Sir"

Tolimus began to open the door, then realised his undress and pushed it to again. "I'll...erm...be out in a minute. Just...go to the main chamber" he stuttered, and Arthur began to wonder just what sort of man he was working under. He nodded respectfully and told the other two men to follow him, ignoring the argument which broke out behind them as Tolimus argued a price with the prostitute for an interrupted night.

Just as the guard finished lighting candles in the main chamber and left the room, Tolimus entered, dressed in court clothes but with his hair out of place and lying in strands across his head. It seemed he had a bald patch which hadn't been visible before. The three men already there remained standing until he sat down, and he looked to Arthur expectantly as the senior soldier there. Arthur cleared his throat.

"I think your scout had better tell you what he saw"

Tolimus turned to the scout, who seemed uncomfortable with three pairs of eyes on him. He coughed nervously.

"I was...erm...travelling along the coast as instructed...recording movements of the Britons...erm...as per my orders..."

"Yes, yes!" Tolimus cried. "Get to the point!"

"Well, erm...I was sleeping six nights ago under a tree on the cliffs...only I couldn't sleep, so I was looking out to sea, and I saw these ships. They were Irish – I followed them inland and they landed up on along the riverbank and moored in the river..."

"How many?" Arthur asked.

"Hundreds. Mostly big ships, carrying men and provisions. They stayed for a night and then started to march inland. I saw a banner – it was a stag on a green field..."

"Hywel's..." Tolimus breathed.

"Yes Sir. Seems he set out early, or had favourable winds"

Tolimus was staring intently at the table, so Arthur took the initiative.

"How long would you say it will take them to get here?"

"At the march they were doing, with weapons and carts...three days. They'll arrive the fourth morning if tomorrow is the first, by my reckoning"

Arthur nodded, and looked to Tolimus for a verdict. It seemed the General wasn't thinking about the Irish, however. He looked at the scout and said;

"Thank you, you may leave"

The scout seemed confused, but got up, bowed and left the room. The remaining two men waited to see what their superior would say. Tolimus sighed.

"This means we'll have to face both the Irish and the Welsh..."

"Four hundred men arrive in three days...maybe less if we send outriders to hurry them" the Lieutenant reminded.

"Yes, but Hywel will bring 3000 men. We are not enough to face them by ourselves, let alone if the Welsh aid them"

Arthur frowned. "The Welsh hate the Irish, you said it yourself"

"That doesn't mean they won't take advantage of a defeat...even if somehow we overcome the Irish, we'll be too weak to withstand a coherent attack from the Welsh"

Arthur thought hard. There had to be some way to beat this situation – he'd faced difficult challenges in the past. There was always a way...

And then it dawned on him.

"What if we were to join forces with the Welsh?"

Tolimus seemed to hold his breath in surprise...then burst out laughing.

"Wha...what? Unite with the Welsh...are you mad, Arturius? We've been fighting them for years!"

"And got nowhere, I might add" Arthur argued. "We have a common foe, it seems prudent to combine our forces against it"

"If you can't beat them, my mother always said..." the Lieutenant mused.

Tolimus's laughter faded as he realised that the men were serious. He became very, very grave.

"So...we join with the Welsh and perhaps...perhaps we defeat the Irish. What then? Do things just go back to the way they were?"

Arthur looked steadily at the older man.

"Yes"

The Lieutenant not only admired the great Arturius – he saw the prudence in his plan as well, and said as much in support:

"It is the only way, General...if the Welsh are defeated by the Irish then we lose our traditional defenders – we would no longer be able to keep a presence in Wales. If we stand alone against the Irish we are sure to be defeated. Joining forces with the Welsh, however, benefits us both...only we are bound to be stronger after a battle in which we have both fought. The Welsh have no armour, few horses...they would be only slightly more than human shields, and yet they would survive to inhabit this land and repel the Irish in future."

Tolimus looked at the Lieutenant, amazed. He had no idea the man had a brain. Perhaps he should be promoted...

Arthur was also impressed with the Roman's reasoning. He nodded in acknowledgement, and the soldier beamed.

"He's right" Arthur said. "Let me go and meet with the Welsh leaders. Perhaps when they learn of the Irish approach they will be willing to come to an agreement"

Tolimus saw there was no use arguing. If his men were behind a plan, it was no good trying to turn them away from it. And he had to admit that it did sound as if it would work, no matter how absurd it seemed at first hearing.

"How will you meet with them, when you have not been able to find them thus far?" he wondered. Arthur smiled.

"I will go to them unarmed and beg their mercy"

Tolimus raised an eyebrow.

"You can expect death, then"

"I hope you overestimate their capacity for brutality, Sir."

Tolimus snorted. "As do I, Arturius. Very well...you shall go to them tomorrow and beg their trust." He stood, pulling his tunic straight as he did so. "May God be with you on this fool's errand!"

Arthur returned to his men, who for once had not drunk so much that they were unable to heed his words. They were all too curious to make merry, especially since an aura of worry had spread throughout the fortress. Tolimus was to make an announcement shortly, and most people expected bad news.

Lancelot, Gawain and Galahad stood as they saw Arthur approaching, and Lancelot stepped forward to meet him.

"What is it, Arthur? What's going on?"

Arthur stood before his men, keeping his voice low so that others wouldn't hear.

"The Irish have landed and are marching inland. They'll be here within three days"

"I thought they were already comin'?" Bors said, unconcernedly.

"They were...but not so soon. Now it seems we won't be able to suppress the Welsh before we have to face the Irish in battle"

"What of the Roman reinforcements?" Lancelot wondered.

"Not enough with the Welsh still our enemies" Arthur replied. "Which is why we must join forces with them"

Galahad spluttered, ale going everywhere. He wiped his mouth quickly and looked at Arthur, wide-eyed.

"What?!"

"I have discussed it with Tolimus, and it seems to be the only way to defeat the Irish. I will go and meet with the Welsh leaders tomorrow"

"'Ow about if you go and meet with them...and then bring them back dead?" Bors asked. Arthur gave him a look.

"That would hardly win their trust"

"Arthur...are you sure about this?" Lancelot said, searching his friend's eyes. Although it sounded like a hair-brained scheme, he'd been through several such with the man before him, and would support him whole-heartedly in this if Arthur said it would work.

Arthur returned his knight's gaze. "Yes"

"Then I will come with you"

Arthur nodded in thanks. "Once the Irish are defeated the Romans can go back to suppressing the Welsh. Our job, however, will have been done by then – we'll be on our way back to the wall."

"So we shouldn't worry about the situation afterwards?" Galahad said. "About how the Romans will turn on the Welsh and destroy them?"

"That would have happened anyway" Gawain explained. "One way or another, the Welsh are doomed. The Romans might as well use them while they can"

Although Arthur didn't quite agree with Gawain's statement, he let it go.

"Tristan" he called, getting the young man's attention. "I need you to come with me tomorrow"

Tristan nodded wordlessly. His tracking skills would find the Welsh. It was left to the Welsh, however, to deal with the knights as they wished. He only hoped Arthur knew what he was doing...


	6. Chapter Six

A/N: **Anwen:** My results were great apart from missing my maths grade! I took three A-Levels and three further AS-Levels so maybe I overstretched myself – I sat 19 exams this summer, which has to be some sort of record... Anyway, I got into my first choice Uni so it all worked out!! I won't be adding any major new characters – I pretty much know where the story's going and I've written a good deal of it. I'll definitely be updating (unless people tell me not to...)!

Chapter Six

After several hours of patient watching, listening, and hawk-following by Tristan, he, Lancelot and Arthur entered a large forest clearing – all was silent except for the sigh of the wind in the trees and the snort of Arthur's horse as it impatiently tossed its head. He stroked its neck in calming manner and motioned that they would halt their journey.

Tristan's eyes darted back and forth, restlessly scanning the trees. He knew they were being watched – had known it for the past half league. By now they would be surrounded by invisible foes.

There.

His eyes alighted on a darker shadow in the gloom beneath the trees. It was slowly moving towards them, becoming visible as a man on horseback. Two other horsemen flanked him...no, one was a woman, Tristan corrected himself. The Welsh leader – Lindon – and his second-in-command, along with another of their men.

The three Welsh warriors walked their horses into the clearing and reined them in opposite the knights. Both parties regarded each other warily.

Lindon spoke first, his voice soft but commanding, and his language indecipherable. Tristan's gaze briefly met that of Lancelot, before flicking to the Welshwoman as she spoke.

"Why have you come here?"

Her eyes were on Arthur, but the knight kept his gaze on Lindon when he replied;

"To talk in peace"

The woman relayed this to Lindon, who betrayed no surprise. He said something, and the woman translated;

"If we chose, you would not leave this clearing alive"

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Lancelot's stomach, although outwardly he retained his confident aura. He was well aware that they had walked straight into a trap. So was Arthur – that was the point. It was a show of trust that would not be lost on the Welsh leader.

"Killing us would not save your people" Arthur said. "You must know that the Irish are coming"

After a brief translation, the woman returned;

"We did not give up our land or our way of living for you, Romans, and we will not give them up for the Irish"

Lancelot studied the woman mounted opposite him. It was the first time he'd seen her so close up. 'Auria', he thought, trying to see if the name fit with the face. He decided that it did...they were both beautiful.

Her dark hair was braided and held back from her face with a forest-green tie. Pale skin contrasted with full red lips and blue-grey eyes, which were now fastened on his own, as if she were aware of his scrutiny. They held defiance, and self-confidence. He met her gaze equally, wondering who would be the first to break the stare.

Arthur spoke again;

"You are too few to defeat them"

Auria's gaze broke with Lancelot's, and she looked to her leader, translating the knight's words. A second later, she replied;

"So are you"

This time her eyes remained fixed on Arthur, and Lancelot continued his evaluation. For all her seeming confidence – the relaxed way she say on her horse, clad in breeches and a leather jerkin like a man; the way she carried two swords on her back (Lancelot smiled inwardly at this mirror of his own style) – what struck him most was how young she was. She was certainly no more than twenty; probably a year or two younger, and to become a leader at that age...well, she must be special. She didn't look Welsh, with her complexion and blue eyes, and she spoke Latin. She was an enigma, indeed...an enigma with whom he had a score to settle...

"That is why I am here" Arthur continued, breaking his knight's reverie. "Neither of us can repel the Irish alone – I came to ask that we work together, call a truce to our fighting and unify to face our common foe"

Auria didn't relay his words to Lindon. Instead, her eyes narrowed.

"Why should we trust you, Roman? What guarantee can you give that you will not betray us...won't turn on us once the battle is won? I recall it was only a few days ago you were trying to discover our settlement?"

Her eyes met Lancelot's, and there was a glint of what looked like amusement in them. Was she mocking him? He glared back, refusing to feel belittled. Arthur, next to him, ignored her last statement, concentrating instead on what mattered – trust.

"You could just as easily betray us" Arthur replied. "It is in both our interests not to"

The woman looked like she was about to say something, but a word from Lindon stopped her. Instead, they spoke together for a minute, then Lindon's eyes met Arthurs, and Auria said;

"What, then, is your guarantee?"

Arthur seemed to assume a greater air of command than usual – seemed to grow in stature. He held his head up proudly and said;

"My word"

"As a Roman?"

"As a Briton. I am a Briton. My men are Pagans. We fight under Rome's banner, but we do not hail from Rome"

Auria conveyed this to Lindon, who seemed to consider it. Then he said through the woman, surprising Lancelot with his change of tack;

"When would you say the Irish will attack?"

"Three days' hence" Arthur replied without hesitation.

Auria nodded. This agreed with their own information.

"How many troops do you command?"

"900" Arthur said.

Lindon thought for another long minute. He knew that a truce was in both their best interests – it was the only way to suppress the Irish invasion. However, trusting Romans was anathema to him and his people. Getting them to agree would take every ounce of his leadership skills. Looking at the man across from him, he saw a noble spirit – a Briton. Instinct told him he could trust this man.

"Very well. We agree to a truce, from now until the first full moon after the battle"

It was Arthur's turn to think for a moment. The full moon was almost two weeks off – an agreed date like that would save both sides from an attack from the other when they were already weakened after fighting. He nodded his assent.

"On my honour, the truce will be upheld"

"On my honour also" Lindon said, and Auria repeated in Latin.

Arthur, slightly relieved that he had completed this self-imposed mission, looked to Lancelot, and the other man nodded slightly in support.

The three Welsh people were turning their horses to leave, and Arthur motioned that his knights should do the same. He knew that they would have safe passage through the forest, although they would probably be tracked for some time to make sure that they really did leave. Lancelot hung back, his curiosity overcoming any feelings he had about the woman leading himself and Tristan to nowhere a few days before.

"Lady!" he called, and Auria reined her horse in, turning in her saddle to look at him. She didn't speak, but her eyes held a question. Lancelot's own eyes glinted as they met hers. "Where did you learn to speak Latin so well?"

Auria's gaze never faltered as she replied, her voice frosty;

"The same place that you learned to kill Britons so well"

Spurring her horse, she followed her leader into the trees, leaving Lancelot faced with Tristan's wry smile.

"Come, Lancelot" he said, "there are easier pickings back at the fort"

The trouble was, Lancelot thought, that he didn't _want_ easier pickings...

Auria quickly caught up with Lindon and Ganal, and the younger man turned to her questioningly.

"What was all that about?"

Auria shrugged, frowning. "He wanted to know where I learnt Latin"

Ganal looked a little indignant. "As if it were _his_ concern"

Auria sighed – he was right, the Roman had no right to ask her any personal questions. His gaze, although she would never let on, had been unsettling. Arrogant. She disliked him already.

As if reading her mind, Lindon spoke up.

"We must fight alongside these men – our personal feelings must be put aside"

Ganal nodded in acquiescence, as did Auria. Lindon was, as always, right.

A short while later found them back at the village, and Lindon called for a meeting of all the inhabitants, to being immediately. Although a few scouts had not yet returned from tracking the Roman knights back towards the fortress, they would hear what was said from others. Everyone knew that their leader had ridden out to talk with Romans, and hurried to sit around the communal fire, eager to hear what was said.

Two men took their horses, and Lindon, Auria and Ganal took seats before the rest of the village. Auria studied her leader – his face was impassive and he had assumed an air of command. What his was about to tell his people would not go down well, but it was necessary, and they must come to realise that. He raised his hand for silence, and immediately a hush fell.

The entire village – men, women and children had their eyes fixed on him, and were waiting expectantly. Lindon took a deep breath.

"I met with the leader of the Roman knights who came to the fortress some days ago. He came in peace, and left also in peace."

There was a slight murmur as people thought over the fact that no blood had been shed. Lindon raised his hand for quiet once again.

"We are an ancient people" he said. "We have lived in this land since man walked the earth, but we have now entered dark times. If we wish for our children to live free, we must face a new enemy. The Romans are no longer our greatest concern. The Irish are coming, and they will sweep us away as if we did not exist...We cannot fight them alone, and neither can the mighty Romans"

He paused, judging the effect of his words. So far, the people were rapt.

"The Roman leader, Arturius, brought this message to me today. He said that the

Romans wish to put aside our differences...join forces and face the Irish threat together as comrades in battle"

A louder murmur swept the crowd, but Lindon raised his voice to be heard over it.

"Arturius spoke prudently! His words held truth! The only way we can stand and fight these Irish dogs is to do so with Roman aid!"

The people quieted down, absorbing his statement. Auria knew that many saw the truth in it.

"I have called a truce with this Roman. It will remain in effect until the next full moon, but we will not know peace. In three days we will face the Irish, and we will fight alongside the Romans. We will know victory, and have time enough to ready ourselves to strive against the Romans once again. They shall uphold their side of the bargain, and upon my honour, we shall uphold ours!"

By giving his word that the Romans wouldn't betray them, Lindon was treading on thin ice. If they did take advantage of the weakness of the Welsh forces after the battle, they were doomed. If they somehow survived, Lindon's career as leader of his people would be over.

However, if it worked...he would be hailed as a hero.

The majority of the people seemed to assent to this plan, although their uneasiness was tangible. It was a testament to their belief in Lindon that they were willing to follow him into such a venture.

One man, Theodon, spoke up, his voice loud and insistent. Everyone turned to listen.

"You expect us to trust them? To lay down our lives for them? You are mad!"

Lindon's eyes flashed.

"We do not lay down our lives for Rome, we lay them down for ourselves! We cannot defeat the Irish alone – that much is true! It is our only choice...if you cannot see that then perhaps you should leave this land now – flee, and live to be an old man. Enjoy the knowledge that your people became Irish slaves!"

"Irish slaves or Roman slaves, it is all the same!"

Ganal stood up, staring down the other man.

"We have no other choice...but nor do the Romans. This course of action is prudent, and this man – Arthur, is noble. He can be trusted. He is a Briton!"

Theodon was pulled back down by some other men, and the warriors seemed to have discarded his speech as that of a fool. A large man with an axe at his side stood up and looked Lindon squarely in the eye.

"I say we let these Romans defend us for once. My axe is with you"

"And mine!" Another man cried. More voices joined them, and Auria saw Lindon's eyes light with pride...and relief.

"We will prepare for battle, then" He said, getting to his feet. "Remember, the truce takes effect on our side as well. The Romans will avoid us, but we must also avoid them"

Lindon made his way to his shelter, leaving Auria and Ganal free to do as they wished. Several people came up to them, asking about the Romans they had seen. Auria left Ganal to it and took Elen by the arm, steering her over to the other woman's shelter. Once inside, she sat down heavily and let out a long sigh.

"Thank the gods that went well!"

Elen sat down beside her and crossed her legs.

"Yes...I hope Lindon knows what he's doing"

"He's right about it being our only choice..."

"But...?"

Auria frowned. "It seems as if we can trust Arthur...but he's still a Roman. I don't trust Romans"

"I thought he was a Briton"

"Not at heart, obviously. If he was, he wouldn't kill his own people"

Elen considered this, then said;

"Did he seem noble?"

"...Yes..." There was indeed something about the man that made Auria feel she could trust him, no matter how much she railed against it.

"Did he seem handsome?"

"What?!"

Auria just stared at her friend, who returned her gaze with a completely innocent expression.

"What do you mean, 'what'?"

"Well...I mean..." Auria stuttered, then looked indignant. "I can't believe you just asked that!"

Elen laughed. "Oh come on – they're the famous knights from Hadrian's Wall! Fairy tales, right in the middle of our land!"

"And?"

"And...I'd quite like to see them"

Auria sniffed. "You probably will...at the end of one of their blades"

"Seriously" Elen said. "What were they like?"

"There were three of them – Arthur and two others. I think they were the ones who followed me the other day, although it's difficult to recall since I only saw their reflections. They were all tall, dark...One had a hawk on his arm."

Elen raised an eyebrow.

"One had an interesting beard..." Auria thought back to the knight she'd looked most upon besides Arthur. The one who had spoken to her...his eyes had seemed to search her, ask her a question, or set a challenge – but she wasn't sure just what it could be. She was a little surprised at her own choice of words to describe him. An 'interesting beard' hardly covered his deep brown eyes and intense gaze. She shook her head and looked at Elen. "They seemed confident, calm...although according to their reputation they have every right to be"

Elen nodded. "Perhaps the sort of men you want by your side in battle..."

Auria certainly saw the truth in that statement. If they upheld their side of the bargain, the knights would be formidable allies indeed.


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far – your comments are greatly appreciated!

**Just2Spooky:** Just reviewing is enough to keep me going!

**Camreyn:** I actually have a couple of chapters that refused to be written, a gap in the middle of the story – what you said gave me an idea of how to bridge it...thank you!

So, to the story so far...

Chapter Seven

The days passed quickly in Auria's settlement. Men and women cleaned and sharpened weapons, practised sparring, and received information on the Irish and their method of fighting from those who had met with them before.

Children, pregnant women, and those too old for battle fixed armour, prepared medical supplies and put together arrows. Craftsmen readied wooden chariots to be pulled by Welsh ponies, who were exercised and fitted with new harnesses. It was a community effort – no pair of hands remained unoccupied.

Lindon was perhaps the busiest of all – he continually walked around the settlement, talking to people, encouraging and inspiring them. He would lead them into battle, and he needed them behind him with no doubts in their minds.

Auria spent the time preparing her battle outfit – similar to that which she'd worm for her sally to the Roman camp in the north, but with more armour. She spoke with the men who could ride – who she'd taught to handle Roman horses. There were nine of them In all – they would enter the fray before everyone else, with herself at their head. Or so she thought.

As she was cleaning her horse's saddle, Lindon came over and sat by her on the ground.

"How goes it?" he asked.

"Well" Auria replied. "We will be ready in good time"

Lindon was silent for a long while, watching her, and Auria wondered what he wanted to speak to her about. She stopped cleaning and looked at him expectantly.

"I wish to ride with you into battle" he said. She raised an eyebrow.

"You haven't trained...not like the other horsemen"

"I can ride well nonetheless"

Auria frowned. She couldn't tell her leader no, but she didn't like the thought of him putting himself in so much danger. Needless danger, when he could enter the battle at the head of the main body of the warriors. She told him as much.

"Arthur...the Roman leader...he rides at the head of his men"

"He is a knight. You lead your people too, just not on horseback"

Lindon sighed. "I have been thinking...my people will follow me, because I am their leader, but they still distrust the Romans. I need to make a show of unity with Arthur. I need to ride into battle by his side"

Auria mulled this over, and said;

"Are you saying that I and my horsemen would also have to ride with Arthur and his knights?"

"Yes"

It would certainly be a show of unity – that much was true. And for all the horsemen to band together and form one charge also made sense...it would further scatter the enemy than if they rode separately. Auria sighed.

"It makes sense for us to ride with Arthur...but I still do not think you should do it. It will be too dangerous"

"I must do it" Lindon said. "For my people, and to show the Romans that I do not hang back like a coward"

So, Auria thought, it was also a matter of pride...

She started cleaning her saddle once again – anything to keep her hands busy before she was tempted to throttle Lindon for his madness.

"Very well" she said. "You will ride at the head of our horsemen...but I will be right by your side"

Lindon nodded. "Thank you"

He got up and left, leaving Auria feeling angry, but resigned. Lindon's place was with his people – some other would have to lead their charge now. He wasn't skilled enough on horseback to ride into battle – she knew she'd have to look out for him, and what you didn't need in battle was to worry about someone else's skin. However, as he'd left he'd thanked her. He was their leader – he didn't have to thank her for anything...but he was showing how much he appreciated her assent. He knew she was making a sacrifice for him, and he was grateful. She sighed again. She hoped he knew what he was doing...but feared that he didn't.

At the close of the second day after the meeting with Arthur, scouts returned to the settlement to say that the Irish had been sighted several leagues off, and would arrive on the morrow.

The mood in the settlement turned from one of occupation, to one of anticipation. Everyone had prepared as much as they physically could – mental and spiritual preparation were all that was left. On the third day, the Irish made camp in the next valley, and just a few hours later Romans could be seen massing their troops to the east.

Auria knew that the time had come to make a move, so as Lindon emerged from his shelter and called for a community meeting in half an hour, she took off her everyday clothes and began to don her battledress.

A thin, short-sleeved shirt went on first, covered by a sleeveless chainmail dress which reached her mid-thigh. A leather jerkin covered this, emblazoned with her tribe's emblem of a raven in flight. Wristguards protected her bare arms, and calf-boots with iron in the toes saved her feet from being trampled by horses' hooves. Leather breeches tucked into the boots, and over all went her swordbelt, a long dagger on one thigh, and a thin knife strapped to the opposite ankle.

She didn't wear a helmet – she preferred to see her enemy without hindrance.

Lindon called for silence as she joined the rest of the settlement at the communal fire. A hush fell over the clearing – warriors and children, young and old all knowing their destiny was near. Lindon stoked the fire until it burned brightly. He had already told his people why they fought – there was really nothing more to say but to give them his blessing, and the blessing of the gods.

He began to sing, his voice clear and strong, and a tankard was passed round from which everyone drank, before their voices joined their leader's. Auria wasn't sure if she believed in gods, or destiny in battle – she'd seen too much suffering and known too much hardship to think someone watched over her – but she drank her fill like everyone else, and raised her voice in song as darkness fell.

Tristan slept uneasily that night, surrounded by the 900 Romans who had set up camp on the hillside across from the Irish. He and the other knights had spent the past three days preparing in their own way for the upcoming battle – Lancelot sparred constantly, and Bors used up as many hours drinking. As always, Tristan looked within himself to find courage for the battle, but this time when he tried to quiet his mind, he was distracted by a far-off sound. Dagonet, sat nearby, raised his head curiously.

"What's that noise?"

Tristan listened as it grew and became clearer. It was unearthly somehow...it made his skin prickle.

"Singing"

A hush began to fall on the Roman camp as more men heard the voices from the beyond the distant trees. The song was deep, slow...it reminded them of the earth and of time immemorial. Tristan knew that it was a song of battle and courage, and when it ended it still seemed to echo in his mind.

More than 3000 Irish massed on the opposite hill. Tristan had had his doubts, but now he knew that the Britons were there, in the woods, in the shadows. They were watching, and waiting, just like everyone else.

Sometime towards dawn, as Arthur and the Roman commander finalised their battle plans in the largest of the tents, nine horsemen emerged from the forest.

Eight horsemen, Tristan corrected himself. One horsewoman.

They did not approach the Roman camp – they stood on the hill just below the treeline two bow-shots away, regarding the Romans calmly. They were waiting for someone to go to them. Tristan got to his feet and went to tell Arthur.

On the way to the tent, he passed Galahad, who was looking toward the Britons.

"Is that all the army they can muster? We're doomed!"

Tristan shook his head and continued on, entering the commander's tent without announcing himself, much to the annoyance of the soldier at the door.

"Oi, mate, you can't..."

"Arthur!"

Arthur stopped talking mid-sentence and turned to face his knight. The Roman commander also looked up, slightly bemused at the interruption.

"Yes?"

"The Britons are here"

Arthur looked at the commander, who shrugged. This was the knights' idea, and he didn't want to have anything to do with it. Arthur could deal with them as he saw fit.

"I will go to them" Arthur said decisively. The commander nodded his agreement, and the knight left the tent, motioning that Tristan should follow him.

Looking across the hill at the horsemen, he came to a decision.

"We will go to them"

Tristan frowned. "What?"

"Get the others, saddle the horses. We're all going to ride over there"

"Why?"

"Because I say so"

Arthur's tone brooked no argument, so Tristan nodded and quickly found Galahad, who was still watching the Britons. Dagonet and Lancelot were already up and it didn't take long to wake the others. Within minutes they were ready and mounted – it certainly helped that they had slept in their armour.

Whilst the Britons looked on, they rode in formation up the hill.

Lindon urged his horse forward on the approach of the knights, and Auria followed, stopping right beside him. Now that he was mounted and with her and her men, she felt uneasy. This was not the way things were supposed to be. She couldn't dwell on her feelings however – the knights were now slowing to a walk just a few lengths away. Both parties regarded the other – Britons, dressed in leather, with painted faces and stolen weapons; Sarmations, horse and man wearing Roman armour which glowed in the first light of dawn.

Arthur, seeing how Lindon brought his second-in-command forward to act as interpreter, motioned for Lancelot to follow him as he approached the Briton, to even up the numbers.

Lancelot's eyes appraised the young woman. She looked stunning. Her hair was drawn back from her face and braided – her face was painted with whorls running along her cheekbone and across one eye – and she looked proud. Defiant. Untouchable.

Her blue eyes sparked as they met his, and unlike on their last meeting, he thought he saw something of admiration there. They certainly held wariness.

Lindon spoke, and Auria repeated it barely after he'd finished.

"Hail, Arthur and his knights"

"Hail, Lindon and his warriors" Arthur said. "Where are the rest of you?"

"They will come when they are needed" Auria said. "Our horsemen will ride into battle with the Romans, if you are willing"

Arthur was going to suggest something similar – he hadn't told his knights, but on seeing the horsemen and idea had come to him.

"I am willing" he said.

Auria noticed the flicker in the young man's eyes who sat next to Arthur. The man from the clearing who had spoken to her – it was strange how they kept meeting in parley. It seemed as if he wasn't happy with the arrangement. Her horsemen weren't either, but it was a show of unity her people would respect. She relayed the message to Lindon, who replied;

"Then it will be so"

Arthur nodded, and pointed to a spot on the hillside just behind a battalion of Roman soldiers.

"I think it best we make our charge from there. We will scatter their forces whilst Roman foot soldiers advance"

Lindon studied the spot Arthur had pointed to and with a glance to Auria, seemed to find it satisfactory. He had to look like he knew what he was doing, and Auria's barely perceptible nod helped him through.

"My people will cover the north flank" Lindon said. "They will not show themselves until the battle has begun. We shall surprise the enemy from the woods"

A move such as this could turn the battle, and Arthur saw its sense. It also gave him the beginnings of respect for the Welsh leader.

Arthur and Lancelot returned to the knights and began to ride over to the spot they were to charge from, the native warriors following a few lengths behind. Whilst they'd been talking, both the Romans and the Irish invaders had been readying themselves, and now looked about prepared for battle. The Roman commander rode down the lines, rallying his troops, before Irish arrows filled the air as thick as rain.

They fell short, and a cheer went up from the Roman side, quickly followed by burning arrows which set the ground alight in front of the Irish troops.

The Irish advanced at a slow march, and their next volley fell on an efficient shield-wall. The Roman arrows which followed were met with less resistance, and within minutes the front ranks of the Irish became thinned. Men stepped forward to take the places of the dead.

Knights and warriors stood motionless on the hill watching the exchange, until Lindon told his men to stand their horses between those of Arthur's knights. They would not charge as two separate groups, but as one integrated force.

Although the knights didn't understand what the Briton had said, they bristled when they saw what the other horsemen were doing. All eyes turned to Arthur, whose gaze was locked with that of Lindon. The two men seemed to understand each other, at least. Arthur told his knights to make room.

Auria moved her horse to stand next to Lancelot's. He was watching the exchange of arrows, but looked over at her once she sat just a few feet away. His eyes rested on the sword held loosely in her hand, then flicked back up to meet her gaze. A leer tugged at the corner of his mouth when he said;

"Are you sure you can fight with that sword?"

Auria stiffened. She hadn't expected him to insult her right before they'd have to fight together. Images of 'accidentally' running him through sprang to mind. She looked him up and down – he was quite spectacular in his armour, but it must weigh tons, she thought. She studied it pointedly.

"Are you sure you can fight in that armour?"

Lancelot met her gaze once again, his eyes darker than before. There was seemingly no way to get a rise out of her – at least, none that he'd found yet. She was certainly a challenge.

"Touche"

Auria frowned slightly at the unfamiliar word, but when she remembered its meaning she smiled.

Lancelot, surprised at her expression, wondered what was so funny. Seeing him look at her that way, the woman's smile disappeared, and she concentrated on the battle scene once more.

Lancelot mentally kicked himself. He should have at least smiled back – on the girl it was a lovely expression...perhaps he should be trying to make her smile instead of looking for weaknesses. He hoped they'd both live long enough for him to see it again...

His attention snapped to Arthur – he was telling them to ride well, kill well, and bring victory to themselves, the Romans, and the Britons.

When he had done, Lindon said one word to his men, which they all repeated. Arthur looked questioningly at Auria, who thought a moment for the Latin equivalent. She raised her eyes to his and said;

"Freedom"

A/N: I just realised that between "scenes" within the chapters, document manager hasn't preserved my page breaks, so i'm sorry if it just seems like it's flicking from one place to another. I'm trying to find a symbol it will preserve, but i have to go through all the chapters and correct it. Hopefully i'll get it done in the next day or two!


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Lancelot concentrated on the host of Irish, his horse pawing the ground as it anticipated the coming charge. They were all awaiting Arthur's signal – even Lindon seemed content to let the Roman choose the moment. But then, Lindon had never been rumoured as a battle leader. His presence had at first caused the knights some confusion, but who were they to question the ways of the Britons? Lancelot pushed his thoughts aside. He could theorise later.

........................................................................................................

Auria looked across to Ganal, who met her gaze. Her eyes flicked to Lindon and back again, and Ganal nodded. He was to watch out for their leader.

......................................................................................................

Arthur raised his sword, and a battle cry went up from the knights. It echoed across the valley, and was joined by that of the nine Britons as the group spurred their horses, galloping towards the enemy without fear or hesitation. They moved as one, but every single man or woman concentrated on their own target – picked out their first victim, and flew as if on wings to hasten Irish deaths.

The Irish crouched, stakes pointing upwards from a hastily-erected shield wall to defend against the charge but Lancelot's horse, well-trained to the point of being almost telepathic, leaped the barrier and trampled those too slow to dive out of the way. Razor-sharp iron connected with armour and unprotected limbs, and a swathe was cut through the front lines of the enemy.

Wheeling around, the knights divided in an attempt to scatter the opposing army. Auria pressed forwards into the thick of the Irish, sword cutting downwards as her horse reared and kicked out at anyone who got too close. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her men doing the same, Lindon hanging onto his reins with one hand to keep his balance. Along with the adrenaline, a rush of worry engulfed her, but she forced herself to concentrate on her own condition when an arrow whizzed past her ear.

As the Irish swarmed around the knights, the Roman foot-soldiers began their march down the hill. Irish horsemen, riding smaller beasts, were dispatched to meet them, and Bors urged his own stallion after them, screaming;

"You're mine, you bastards! Get those tiny horses back here!"

Lancelot grinned and slashed at another man who had grabbed hold of his saddle. Roman soldiers were finally meeting with Irish, but they were still greatly outnumbered. As the Irish pressed forwards he jumped from his horse, both swords drawn, and entered the fray on the ground.

........................................................................................................

Auria took a man's head from his shoulders, then looked up as she heard her name being shouted. Lindon...he was being dragged from his horse as Ganal looked on, unable to reach him because of the number of Irish swarming about his horse. Lindon had to be saved – it was time for her people to protect their land.

She stood up in her saddle and raised her sword, holding it up as long as she could, grimacing as another arrow crossed within a hair's breadth of her chest. Irish hands reached up and pulled her to the ground, but the signal was given. Britons began to pour from the woods, on foot and in chariots, and the entire north flank of the Irish looked on in horror as painted hordes stampeded towards them.

Auria kicked out at an enemy, disarming him, then stabbed him in the neck with a dagger she'd grabbed from the sheath on her ankle. She jumped to her feet and pulled her other sword out, revelling in the feel of both blades' weight in her hands. Because she was in the middle of the battle, the Irish were many, and determined. Men pressed at her from all sides wielding swords and axes, and no matter how much she thrust and parried, it was all she could do to hold them off.

Being forced backwards by a huge Irishman, she slipped and stumbled, one hand flying out for balance and leaving her side unprotected. An axe swung towards her even as she looked on in horror, seeing the end of her battle – if not her life.

A blood-covered blade met the axe with a ring of iron and deflected it, another blade swinging in to cleave the Irishman in two. Auria looked up at met Lancelot's mirthful gaze.

He'd just saved her life and he knew it.

She grinned wolfishly back and blocked a blow she'd heard more than seen coming. He wielded his swords with such ease and grace, she felt she could watch him all day. Her own faults seemed magnified as she fought alongside him. Unfortunately, she thought, getting tips at the moment wasn't quite an option. A large bearded man seemed intent on killing her, and even though she'd just lopped off his arm, he wasn't giving up.

Lancelot, seeing her difficulty, distracted the man with a feint to his head, allowing Auria to run him through. She couldn't keep letting him help her like that – he was the first man ever to assume such a role, and she hated the fact that she enjoyed it. Spinning round to the knight's other side, she hacked into the men who were pressing against him, resolving to repay him somewhat for his protection of her. If only to make herself feel better...

Lancelot fought with a grin on his face. It looked as if the woman could handle her blades after all. She was taking care of his blind-side, showing not only skill but also respect for him as a battle partner. Once again he thought back to how he'd spoken to her both times they'd met – mocking her...testing her.

He glanced at her face – blood-spattered, determined, but still beautiful. She had certainly passed all his tests.

........................................................................................................

Arthur knew, as the Britons joined the fray, that he'd made the right decision. They fought like demons...like people who had everything to lose. Romans couldn't inspire the same fear into the Irish as the natives could. Roman soldiers were too regimented, too predictable. The natives seemed possessed.

And the woman – Auria. She was handling her weapons like a skilled warrior should...as were all her men. Her horsemen had impressed his own knights, he knew. Their courage and skill were not lost upon the Sarmatians...Arthur thought that they had all gained a new respect for the Britons that day.

He looked for the Welsh leader. Out of all of the warriors, he sat least comfortably upon his horse. Auria seemed concerned for him – a barely perceptible uneasy glance spoke more than words ever could. Lindon, however, was nowhere to be seen in the fray. Bodies, dirt and blood were too thick to make out faces. Arthur hoped the man had survived thus far.

........................................................................................................

Slowly but surely, the Irish fell, but Roman and native casualties rose almost as high. Towards the end of the battle, Tristan stood outside the circle of fighting, picking off men with his bow and arrow. His keen eyes picked out the man who had ridden next to him into the fray. He stood over a body, his stance betraying his anger and despair.

Lindon had fallen, and Ganal uselessly defended his corpse.

Tristan sighed inwardly – it was not good news for the Britons. The Romans were now taking control of the field – slaying the last remaining Irish. Some soldiers even began to move amongst the bodies, killing anyone still alive, and some stood around with little to do but get their breath back.

Auria and Lancelot had fought together, making an unassailable obstacle to anyone who challenged them. There was no-one left to take up their offer, however, and Tristan watched as Auria sheathed one of her swords. She pushed back her hair with her free hand and glanced about, checking up on her men. Her eyes alighted on the man Tristan had been watching previously, and she tensed.

Lancelot looked down at her curiously, and as she began to walk away from him, he followed her with his gaze. She broke into a run, and he called her name.

Ignoring him, she crossed the battlefield. Tristan covered her with his bow in case someone should impede her – a woman with her courage should not die in the last moments of conflict just because a greater concern than her own life had entered into her head.

....................................................................................................

Gasping for breath but finding none, Auria made it to Ganal and knelt beside him, looking looked down on Lindon, whose eyes were fixed on the sky. He had died looking to the heavens, at least...

She stood and met Arthur's gaze across the battlefield. Something was building within her – it had started the moment she'd spied Lindon's body...a kind of despair...rage...helplessness against greater forces than her own. She wanted to scream, but was too tired. Arthur's eyes were impenetrable...but for the briefest of moments he inclined his head. An acknowledgement of her sacrifice. The sacrifice of her people.

She wiped at the blood dripping past her eyes, covering her hand in fresh red, and looked to her right, to Ganal. A few others were coming over – shock, horror, despair all written on their faces. They were looking to her for some kind of statement...some kind of explanation. She had to remain strong, for their sakes. Lindon was not the only one who had died that day.

"Take his body back to the settlement" Auria instructed two of the men. "Ganal – those who can must help the wounded. Post a guard over the bodies of our fallen – we will return for them once those still alive have been tended." Her eyes scanned the valley – over half of the warriors who had run into battle were dead, it seemed. She hoped there would be enough left alive to deal with them as was the custom of their people. All that, however, could be taken care of later.

After the two men had left, bearing Lindon's corpse, Ganal placed a hand on Auria's shoulder.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"He was dragged from his horse...I couldn't reach him"

"I should have been nearer"

"It wasn't your fault – he insisted on riding into battle"

"I should have stopped him" Auria said.

"He was our leader...it was his own choice and none of us could have stood in his way."

"But look what good it's done us. Who is our leader now?"

Ganal stood silent for a moment, then said;

"You?"

Auria barked a bitter laugh. "I cannot lead – my skills are in conflict, not in peace!"

"The people look up to you"

"They fear me. I am not one of you, Ganal, no matter how long I've lived with you...no matter what services I've done you. Everyone knows I wasn't born in this land...I cannot lead you"

"Us, Auria. You are one of us"

Auria shook her head and sighed. "I don't know. Perhaps you should lead us. Them."

Ganal knew how much Auria blamed herself. It wasn't she who agreed to side with the Romans, or who put Lindon's life in danger – Lindon had done all that himself. Auria was simply left to pick up the pieces. It was something no-one should be asked to do. He knew he must comfort her if she were to get them through this dark time.

"We have until the next full moon" he said. "We must concentrate on healing...rebuilding...this battle has been won, Auria. We are still a free people"

"Yes..." Auria agreed. "The battle has been won...but what of the war?"

......................................................................................................

Lancelot watched the Britons make their slow way towards the woods, carrying their wounded and fallen, ignoring the Romans they walked amongst. It seemed that now the battle was over, they just wanted to return to their own world. He didn't blame them.

Auria wandered by herself in the midst of the field, nudging an occasional body with her foot to see its face. She was covered in blood and dirt, but still retained a grace of movement which even exhaustion couldn't take away. He started to move towards her, but a strong hand on his shoulder stayed him. He turned to face Arthur.

"Leave her, Lancelot"

Lancelot looked to the woman again, with half a mind to disobey his leader's command. Arthur sighed audibly.

"Lindon is dead – you cannot help her"

"She looks as if she has the world on her shoulders" Lancelot observed. The way she was keeping apart from the rest of her people – waiting until they had all left the battlefield before leaving herself. Arthur nodded.

"She may have to lead her people now"

A thought suddenly occurred to Lancelot.

"What of the full moon?"

"That is when our truce ends"

Lancelot studied Arthur. He knew that was the agreement, but...

"Will you honour that part of the contract?"

Arthur gave Lancelot a look which brooked no argument.

"Tolimus will honour it if I do not"

Arthur knew he spoke the truth. The Britons, by the number of their dead, had been decimated. A Roman attack would surely finish them for good, and after their actions that day he railed against such a fate. It was better that he and his knights launch the first offensive after the truce, than Tolimus with the whole Roman army descend upon Auria and her people. Tolimus would not show mercy.

The knights turned from watching the woman. Nothing could be done – their purpose together had been served. Lancelot knew he would see her again though, for better or for worse.


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: **Camreyn:** Thanks for all your reviews – they're always constructive and it's great! Hopefully the next chapters will answer your questions! As for Holland – I didn't get there when I was backpacking – I toured Eastern Europe. I've been before tho!!

**Just2spooky, SunsetSparrow, Anwen:** Thanks for all your reviews too, it's really cool having long-term readers!

Chapter Nine

That night at the fortress, there was celebration.

The Irish had been defeated, the Welsh had been decimated, and Tolimus had ordered the wine cellars opened. Despite the number of dead, it was cause for celebration. Half the dead Roman soldiers were reinforcements from the northern camp anyway – not a great loss in the overall scheme of things.

"We didn't lose anyone either" Gawain pointed out gleefully. "Quite a good battle, if you ask me"

"Not _this_ time..." Galahad muttered into his ale. Gawain regarded him thoughtfully.

"You're a rather angry young man, aren't you?"

Galahad scowled, and Lancelot patted him consolingly on the back, chuckling to himself at his friend's face. The three men, along with Bors and Dagonet, were sat round a table in the courtyard, talking the day over and imbibing as much ale as possible. Strangely enough, Bors was the quietest – he'd barely said anything all evening. Lancelot poked him in the arm to get his attention.

"What's the matter Bors? Did you not kill as many Irish as you'd hoped?"

Bors grunted, and Gawain said;

"It can't be that – we didn't have a bet this time, even though I _know_ I killed more than him...he didn't lose any money!"

"I miss my little bastards" Bors growled, and Lancelot sighed in understanding.

"I miss them too...and Vanora"

"I'll bet" Bors snarled, but the other knight only grinned innocently.

"You always leave her for days, weeks!" Galahad said. "What's so different this time?"

"They're growin' up" Bors explained. "I feel I'm missin' out on things. Vanora's pregnant again – that's another one on the way and I'm not around to see 'er get big"

"I'm sure she's fine" Gawain reassured him. "She's done it ten times before"

"Yeah..." Bors agreed, face brightening slightly. "She can look after 'erself"

Just then, a wench in a low-cut dress sauntered over, carrying a tray full of jugs. Leaning one elbow casually on Dagonet's broad shoulder, she held the tray up and inquired;

"Wine, anyone?"

"Aye, wine!" Gawain cried, and Galahad reached for a couple of jugs. Giggling, the barmaid handed them over, brushing back her blonde locks as she straightened up.

"More wine!" Bors cried, reaching for another jug.

"I will have some also" Lancelot told the woman, and Galahad froze, jug halfway to his mouth, to stare at the other man.

Lancelot was politely taking the jug, keeping his eyes on the woman's face, and the smile of thanks he shot her was completely innocent. Where was his trademark leer?

The wench actually looked a little disappointed.

Gawain had also noticed Lancelot's restraint, and caught the woman on her way past him, pulling her into his lap. Galahad looked at her a little longingly, then turned to Lancelot.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You...erm...didn't...erm..."

"Didn't what?" Lancelot looked genuinely confused, but his eyes glittered with mirth. He wanted Galahad to say it, but with the woman sitting right next to him in Gawain's lap, he looked to be having some trouble finding the right words.

"What he's trying to say, is that he's never seen you act as such a gentleman" Dagonet rescued the younger man, his deep voice rumbling across the table like quiet thunder. Whenever he spoke, which was rarely, his words were heeded.

"I'm _always_ a gentleman!" Lancelot protested, but Dagonet's raised eyebrow made him smile in defeat. "Maybe I'm just not in the mood?"

"You're _always_ in the mood!" Gawain cried, and his woman giggled coquettishly. She certainly had assets...but Lancelot didn't want to bed another faceless woman that night. Anyway, Gawain looked to be having fun.

He just shrugged and took a swig of the wine. He didn't have to explain why he wasn't in the mood for women. He wasn't even sure himself. Whenever he thought of Auria, the Welshwoman he'd fought alongside in battle, he felt...guilty about other women. At least, he thought it was guilt. It was certainly an unfamiliar feeling. The trouble was, Auria's face kept popping into his mind.

Galahad, seeing that he wasn't going to get an explanation, turned his eyes out into the courtyard, trying to find a woman for himself. Gawain looked like he'd be preoccupied for the rest of the night, and he didn't fancy spending the evening just talking to his fellow knights. In a far, shadowy corner, he spied Tristan. The man was using his thin hunting knife to slice and eat and apple. What was it with him and apples?

Tristan looked up.

From this distance, his eyes looked slightly bloodshot, as if he'd been awake for a long time. Galahad, as usual, couldn't hold his piercing gaze and looked away. Straight towards a smiling girl.

His normally frowning face split into a wide grin, showing two rows of perfect white teeth. With a cursory wave to his comrades, he got up and left the table.

........................................................................................................

Meanwhile, Arthur was convening a meeting with General Tolimus. After several fruitless hours spent waiting outside the main chamber. Whilst he would not normally let himself be treated in such a fashion, this was not Hadrian's Wall. He had no status here beyond that of an ordinary Roman knight. Tolimus had seen fit to take care of other business before granting him an audience – namely, writing letters of victory to the surrounding fortresses.

"What do you think of this?" he asked, motioning to a roll of paper held by a pale young scribe. The scribe cleared his throat, and read out;

"Following a hard battle, the Irish were overwhelmingly defeated by the brave men of Fortress VIII. 263 Roman soldiers were killed – request reinforcements"

Arthur nodded noncommittally.

"It sounds...appropriate"

"Good!" Tolimus cried. "It's going to Rome!"

"Rome?"

"Yes, they appreciate news from their last outpost!"

"You make no mention of the help we received from the Welsh" Arthur commented. Tolimus waved his hand dismissively.

"You mean the help we _gave_ to the Welsh. I see no reason to bother Rome with such...trivialities. The main thing is the victory, with which the Governors will be most pleased"

'**Which you will receive full credit for, I'm sure'** Arthur thought.

"It is the Welsh I wish to speak with you about" he replied instead. "Namely, the truce"

"What?" Tolimus picked up a goblet of wine and took a swig. "What about it?"

"Will you uphold it?"

"I see no reason why not. They suffered heavy casualties, didn't they?"

"I believe so"

"Well then, they'll still be crippled by the full moon. With any luck they'll flee before then and save us the trouble of exterminating them"

Arthur nodded slowly. Although he disagreed with the Roman, he had no reason to say so. He felt he owed it to the Welsh to uphold the truce, and since it seemed that Tolimus was willing to honour it, he could rest easy.

"Perhaps" he agreed. "That is all I came to ask"

"Right, well...you'd better get out there and celebrate" Tolimus said. "There'll be work to do tomorrow, I suppose"

"Yes, Sir"

Arthur inclined his head in something of a salute and left the room. In the corridor outside the main chamber, noise from the courtyard filtered in through small windows high up in the wall. It sounded like the soldiers were having a good time and...was that Gawain...singing...? Arthur grinned and quickened his pace.

......................................................................................................

The dawning sun on following morn found a settlement enshrouded in mist. Silence reigned – the blank whiteness hid moans of pain, sighs of despair, and the tears of many. Despite winning the battle, the people had lost much, including their leader. Times had suddenly become uncertain.

Inside his shelter, Auria knelt alone by Lindon's body.

She had kept watch all night, barely aware of her own injuries – the swelling of her joints and the dried blood on her face. Looking down on Lindon's peaceful face, she hoped for an epiphany – some sign of her own future. It was an empty hope – she found no answers.

The people expected her to take charge of the situation. She had seen it in their eyes on her return the night before...they looked to her for guidance but all she could offer were empty words about taking care of the injured and preparing the dead for cremation. She had no idea of leadership. She was a killer first and foremost – it seemed like her calling...she excelled at it and it had become her role within the tribe. The protection her skills brought the settlement were secondary, in a way.

And then there was her past.

Her life had made her far too independent to commit herself to the tribe. Deep down she knew hers was a restless spirit. Becoming a leader meant making a decision to die here.

She didn't want to die here.

She hung her head, meditating on her thoughts for a long while, until a soft sound caught her attention.

"Auria?"

It was a whisper – Elen didn't want to interrupt her friend's reverie. Especially not when that friend had just become de facto head of the tribe.

Auria brought her head up slowly, wincing as her muscles protested.

"Yes?"

"We must prepare Lindon for the ceremony" Elen said gently.

Auria sighed. Lindon and the rest of the dead would be burned – committed to the heavens and the earth that bore them. She turned round to meet Elen's gaze.

"Very well"

She swallowed, realising for the first time how dry her mouth was. Elen saw indecision in her gaze...worry...

"How many are dead?"

Auria's voice was cracked, and Elen went to kneel by her, trying through her presence to offer comfort.

"Half of those who went into battle. Another third of those left are injured. You should see to your own wounds..."

Auria's eyes had grown glazed as her thoughts turned inwards once again. She licked her lips and said;

"Could it have been avoided?"

Elen shook her head. If Auria began blaming herself...

"No" she said. "It was the only way, and a willing sacrifice. Now we must rebuild...we need you, Auria. Do not hide yourself away"

Her conversation with Ganal came rushing back. He had charged her with responsibilities too. She laughed bitterly.

"What am I to do, Elen? I cannot take Lindon's role!"

"The people have chosen you"

"How? Have they all said they want me to lead them?!" Auria knew she was just practising denial, but at that moment all she wanted was a way out.

"They don't have to. Auria...we will help you. Myself, Ganal...we will all help you. But you must give a show of strength, at least for today"

"And tomorrow?"

Elen shook her head. "Tomorrow will bring its own tasks"

Auria was silent for a long time. Finally, she nodded.

"I will preside over the ceremony tonight"

"That is well. Now, come with me. You are injured"

Auria followed the woman back to her own shelter, passing on the way dozens of pale faces – the fallen and those who tended them. Half the familiar faces were gone. All of her horsemen but Ganal had been killed. She had never felt so empty inside.

........................................................................................................

Theoden sat by the body of his son. He had spoken out against siding with the Romans in the first place – he was one of a tiny minority who thought the Welsh should stand alone rather than play puppets to Rome. He had been justified – look what they had left!

The people were stupid – Lindon was stupid. Him and the woman...the woman who was now their leader. Accepting her in his place was just agreeing to certain doom. She had killed his son...

And what now? The time until the full moon was theirs, but it wasn't enough. In less than two weeks, the weakened settlement would be overrun by Roman soldiers. There was no way to stand up to it – the only option was to relocate far away. Only, most people were too sick to travel. Theoden bristled inside.

Someone deserved to pay.

The woman? She was responsible after all.

Or was she? She had met with Romans – listened to Roman promises. Theoden's hatred of Rome was far greater than his hatred of Auria. She had, after all, provided him service in the past. At least she had done some good...Romans were nothing but evil. Roman lies had brought them to this state.

Or, more specifically, one Roman's lies. Arthur. He was the man who had promised so much...struck a bargain for their freedom. The bargain hadn't included his son's death.

Theoden made a silent resolve. He would make the Roman pay.

......................................................................................................

Elen carefully cleaned Auria's wounds, although she half-thought that even if she'd been rough, her friend wouldn't have felt it. That familiar body, that she'd seen so many times after battle, helped to dress and undress and stitch back together, now had fresh scars to accompany the old. This time, she didn't make any jokes about the dirt, or the blood and sweat-encrusted hair which hung limply down the woman's back. Now was not the time for jokes.

Elsewhere in the settlement, preparations were taking place. Ganal had organised things – bodies were being cleaned and dressed, and everyone who was able would attend that night. Because of the amount of smoke from the funeral pyre, the ceremony would take place a league or so from the settlement, downwind. Despite the truce with the Romans, there was no good reason to light a beacon leading them straight to the site of the Welsh.

........................................................................................................

Just before nightfall, Auria dressed in the ceremonial robes she would have worn as Lindon's assistant in any other tribal ceremony. Ganal wore Lindon's robes – male and female both played a part in the ritual, to reflect the male and female in all of nature.

A long procession, carrying torches, wound out from the clearing and deep into the woods. Wherever the people settled, the ancestral funeral ground remained the same. By the highest rock, at the top of a large valley fed by the river, people had been given their last rites for generations. Burial mounds looked over the scene from a long-forgotten past. In these modern times, bodies were burned. Lindon would go out in death shining as brightly as he had done in life.

That night saw the biggest pyre in living memory. The flames from the piled rushes seemed to reach the stars. Those flickering lights paled in comparison.

Auria didn't watch the flames. She looked to the heavens, unaware of the chill night air, and saw a lone shooting star arcing over the void.

One star had broken free of the rest. One star blazed its own trail.

Despite what she had fought for, Auria still longed for freedom.

........................................................................................................

At the back of the gathered crowd of people, Theoden waited. When the drums had ceased to beat, and the chanting was in full sway, the flames growing beyond those they consumed, he slipped away into the night.

Unnoticed by all but the forest creatures, he ran the two leagues to the fortress, hesitating in the grass when he came within sighed of the walls. He had come to the place of the Romans – the place of empty promises and scattered dreams.

His fingers curled around his bow, and the muscles of his back flexed beneath the reassuring weight of his axe.

Keeping an eye on the guards on the wall, he crept slowly through the shadows.

........................................................................................................

Tristan sighed inwardly and pulled his heavy cloak closer about his strong frame. It was well past midnight, and as usual, he was alone on the walls. Even his hawk had deserted him for better hunting grounds. He didn't know what kept him awake so long – at least, he didn't like to think too deeply into the matter. It was a part of him and he'd long ago come to accept it. His place was that of watcher...seeing all and hearing all. Perhaps he should change his name to Vigilance.

The stars were certainly beautiful tonight, although their cold majesty was disturbed somewhat by a glow to the west. A fire was burning, but there was no warning signal. Whatever it was, it belonged to the Welsh. It was not of Roman concern, but it piqued his curiosity nonetheless. It had been much larger earlier in the night...the glow was a muted orange now. A fire burning itself out.

And the shooting star. The trailing flame pointing east. Galahad would have read something into it...Tristan was not so taken by fancy. Signs to him were those contained in the tracks of animals, in the shape of the clouds and the faces of men.

In the movement amongst the shadows...

Something was moving below the wall. Tristan chastised himself for becoming so caught up in his own thoughts that he'd almost missed it. It was too large to be an animal. Besides, animals did not creep around in such a way.

A man. But what manner of man? A Roman would not sneak up on his own garrison. The Irish were all dead...even if one had escaped, they would not come to an enemy fortress.

His bow trained on the mysterious figure, Tristan slipped into the shadows and waited.

........................................................................................................

When the fire had taken the bodies of the dead, Auria and Ganal told the people to return to the settlement. Ganal looked over the faces that were left – they had all become so much more familiar to him this past day. He was aware of each and every one of them – the survivors.

One face was missing.

"Where is Theoden?" he wondered out loud. Auria glanced at him.

"Did he come?"

"Yes, his son is dead"

Auria mentally kicked herself. Of course...she would have to speak with him. He had spoken out against herself and Lindon and had suffered the death of his only child. It seemed unfair that the man least willing to fight had suffered most.

"He may have returned already"

"Perhaps" Ganal assented.

"I will find him when we get back – I must speak with him"

"He may not want to see you"

"I know...but you yourself told me to try"

"I can come with you?"

"No...I will do it alone. Thank you, though"

Auria wanted to hurry back to the clearing to get her self-imposed task over with, but for the sake of propriety she had to hang back with Ganal and walk behind the others. Some people came to talk to them, giving words of support or sharing in the sadness of the community. All Auria could offer were words of sympathy or reassurance. Even if she didn't not believe in them herself.

Finally returning home, she didn't bother to change out of her robes before heading to Theoden's shelter. Part of her thought that wearing them would lend her some authority in front of the older man. She needn't have worried, however – his shelter was empty.

Elen had been waiting to speak to her friend, and when she turned from Theoden's hearth, a puzzled look on her face, she went over.

"You did well" she said quietly. Auria nodded absently.

"Have you seen Theoden?"

"No...not since the ceremony. Is he not in his shelter?"

"No" Auria looked round. "In fact, he doesn't seem to be anywhere..."

Elen looked thoughtful. "Has he taken any women recently?"

"No...but I shall ask around. Perhaps someone has seen him"

It soon became clear that they hadn't. Theoden had disappeared. Standing puzzled by the communal fire, and old man hobbled over. His name was Danwel, and he was Daneth's grandfather. His son's death had affected him, but he held respect for Auria and knew she was Daneth's friend in life. He sat down heavily and motioned that Auria should do the same.

"You look troubled" he stated, his voice cracked with age.

"Yes" Auria replied. "I had been hoping to speak with Theoden, but I cannot find him"

"Theoden...he was troubled also" Danwel said. "His son's death hit him hard"

"I can imagine. That is why I wish to see him"

Danwel sighed. "He didn't blame you, if that's what you fear. He blamed the Romans"

Auria glanced at the shrewd old man. She _had_ feared that Theoden would hold her responsible. In fact, a part of her _felt_ responsible...

"No-one was to blame"

"Still, he hated the Romans from birth. Now he feels they have taken his son...his future. He was talking of them earlier, before the ceremony"

"Yes?"

"He said they had tricked our people, that they wanted us to doom ourselves fighting the Irish. He was raving..." Danwel stopped and coughed. "Said they deserved to be punished for what they had done, but that you would do nothing"

"Me?"

"Yes. He recognises you as leader, at least" Danwel laughed, but it deteriorated to more coughing. Auria passed him some ale, which he accepted gratefully. "Anyway, he said his son's death, and the deaths of so many others, must be avenged"

Auria frowned. "He wants me to avenge them?"

"He thinks you will not"

"So he is bitter..." Auria surmised. Danwel nodded. "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid..."

A thought suddenly occurred to her, and her words trailed off into silence. She looked at the old man, who raised an eyebrow in question.

"You don't think he's gone to get revenge, do you?"

Danwel, for all his advanced years, was surprisingly quick on the uptake.

"Are his weapons still here?"

Auria jumped up and ran to Theoden's shelter. His bow and axe were gone, as was the quiver of arrows which always sat just inside his door.

She swore loudly, drawing curious glances from those still awake.

Danwel hobbled over once again and laid a hand on her arm.

"It looks like you must move quickly..."

A/N: This chapter was SO hard to write...all the 'thinking' everyone does! I hope I captured a little bit of Tristan in this – I get the idea that for all his loneliness, he notices the beauty in nature and appreciates it. I like the idea of two people seeing the same thing but drawing totally different conclusions. Tristan's does seem rather bleak, but then, he's a mysterious guy. I hope this chapter contrasts the mood in the fortress with that of the settlement. Cliff-hanger will be resolved next chapter!


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: I realised I stole Theoden's name after I posted it…I **did** realise…but then I thought, ah well…it came to me as seeming right and I'm not going to change it. Just thought I'd acknowledge that it does indeed resemble a name from LOTR. When I say resemble, I mean mirror exactly…

Chapter Ten

Still clad in the ceremonial red robes, Auria galloped her horse through the dense trees towards the fortress, ignoring the branches which grabbed at her face and clothing. She had hoped to give the beast a few days' rest after the battle, but this was an emergency, and she urged it to go faster with whispered words of encouragement. How long had it been since Theoden had slipped away from the ceremony? Three hours? Four?

Enough time for him to reach the Roman garrison, certainly.

Auria only hoped she'd get there in time to stop whatever mischief he had planned.

Suddenly, the horse faltered mid-step. It had seen the scrap of tattered cloth hanging from a low branch and shied at the fluttering material. Auria smiled grimly – a good hunter looked out for clues, and this was a brightly-painted signpost. Now her keen eyes picked up footprints in the soft earth…Theoden _was_ going to the fort, at least.

Dozens of thoughts raced though her mind, none of them pleasant. Foremost of all was the truce.

It must be upheld!

If Theoden made an aggressive gesture towards the Romans, they would descend upon the settlement like the Christian's Judgement Day. He would jeopardise the whole community by showing his face.

'**But'**, Auria thought, **'perhaps he only wishes to kill silently and then slip away unnoticed'**. The Romans would not be able to prove a Welshman had been in the fortress if he was not seen. '**No…they would blame the Welsh anyway'** she decided. Rome would use any excuse to purge the countryside of its natives.

'**I cannot allow them that excuse! Not after all Lindon worked for…'**

* * *

The wall, Theoden noted with satisfaction, was left quite unguarded. A lone sentinel patrolled the defences on this side, and he was now moving away from the staircase which led up to the battlements. It was all well and good for Theoden's purposes, but said a lot about Roman overconfidence. Or complacency.

Silently, he ascended the stone stairs and crouched in the shadows at the top, thinking.

Arthur, the Roman commander, would be in the most comfortable part of the fortress, since he had status. But just where was that? Theoden had already decided to take his revenge on the man who had led Lindon and the woman to make such a bad decision…but putting the plan into practise needed more information.

His dark eyes scanned the dimly-lit courtyard below and came to rest on a tall figure. He smiled. No need to search – his quarry was standing right there, in the furthest corner of the enclosure.

To make sure, Theoden waited until the man moved beneath a torch and his face was lit up.

Yes, it was definitely Arthur. He was talking with another man – large and shaven-headed. It didn't matter – Theoden's aim was good.

He unhooked his bow from his belt and selected a long arrow. Killing the man would be easy, but it would not make Theoden's revenge any less sweet…

* * *

Tristan watched the man's ascent onto the battlements with interest. His clothing and character became visible as he slipped between the shadows – a Welshman, and an older one at that. What would such a man be doing sneaking into a Roman fortress in the middle of the night? Mischief, Tristan presumed, edging closer to keep the man in his sights.

The shadowy figure halted by the wall and looked down into the courtyard, where only a few people still roamed. Tristan knew that Galahad was down there, talking to a woman – he'd heard them as he'd watched the fire to the west. Arthur and Bors also held counsel, although their words were not clear enough to be heard properly. A few Roman soldiers lay in drunken stupors, but apart from that, the place was empty.

Even so, it looked like the Welshman had found what he was looking for. He unhooked his bow, strung it, and notched an arrow.

Tristan followed his aim, his mind calm despite the threat to one of the men in the courtyard. He noted with interest that the man seemed intent on shooting Arthur. As his hand drew back, so did Tristan's, and the arrow which loosed first sent a Welshman tumbling over the battlements, dead.

Tristan winced at the thud. He hadn't meant for the man to fall off the wall. Now keeping the event quiet would be difficult. Even as he thought this, the men below grew silent and turned to stare at the body. The scout mentally shrugged.

'**You can't plan for everything'**

* * *

"What the…?" Bors exclaimed as a body thudded into the ground across the square. His hand went to his sword and his eyes to the wall, scanning for enemies. Instead of a foe however, Tristan appeared from the shadows and peered down at the dead man.

"Tristan!" Arthur called. "What is the meaning of this?"

Tristan made his way calmly down the steps into the courtyard, long coat swishing around him, and met Arthur and Bors who had made their way over to the body. Galahad abandoned his woman and hurried over.

"He was on the wall" Tristan explained. "Aiming an arrow at you. I shot him"

"Who is 'e?" Bors wondered.

"Welshman" Tristan said.

"Are there any more?" Arthur asked, suddenly realising this could mark the beginning of an invasion. His scout, however, shook his head, braids dancing.

"No…just this one."

"What about the truce?" Galahad exclaimed.

"Yeah, we 'ad a truce!" Bors cried. "Bastards broke it!"

"No…" Arthur mused. "This man broke it. If there are no more…"

He trailed off, and Tristan studied him intently, reading in his face what he hadn't put into words. It was possible that this man were acting alone. The Welsh leaders would not want the truce to be broken…they would not send an assassin to the fort. They knew it would mean certain death for the natives. So why had this man come?

"Take the body" Arthur instructed his men. "Take it into the woods and leave it there. Say nothing of this to anyone"

"But…" Galahad began, and Arthur hushed him, his face betraying inner turmoil.

"I would like to believe the Welsh are more noble than to send this man to kill me. If he was acting alone – and it seems that he was – I would prefer that we ignore the act. I do not want to break a truce for the actions of one man."

"You mean…you don't want to slay the Welsh without good reason" Galahad said. Arthur nodded slowly.

"Let's go then" Tristan commanded, wanting to get the deed over with. Bors reached down to pick up the body, but was only halfway when an insistent voice cried out;

"What is the meaning of this!"

The four knights turned slowly to see Tolimus and a group of Roman soldiers appear from a dark doorway. The commander looked sleep-addled, but his eyes held an angry glare.

"What is going on here!" he demanded once again, and Arthur sighed audibly. It seemed he would not be able to hide the event as he had hoped.

"A man was on the wall, Sir" he informed the Roman. "My knight shot him"

"Why was he on the wall?" Tolimus asked, peering past Bors at the body. Bors didn't move to give him a better look – they were going to make this as difficult for him as possible.

Arthur shrugged. "We do not know"

"He is Welsh!" Tolimus concluded. "A Welshman in our garrison, in the middle of the night? What is this, an invasion?"

"It seems he was acting alone, my Lord"

"Hmph…whatever he was doing, he had no business here!" Tolimus scowled deeply. "He has broken our truce, it seems…"

"Perhaps not" Arthur argued. "Perhaps he was here to parley"

"At this hour? I don't think so." The Roman turned to one of the soldiers – a man Arthur recognised had been in the courtyard before and who in all likelihood had raised the alarm. "Have his body hung from the battlements. It will be a message to the Welsh that their days are numbered. Day, in fact...at dawn we will rally the troops and finish what we should have done last week"

"You mean to destroy the Welsh?" Arthur asked.

Tolimus smiled. "Yes. I expect you and your men to aid me. I have a special assignment for you, in fact"

Arthur nodded his assent, but inwardly he was cursing himself and the Roman commander. There was no way he could stop Tolimus…he just wished the man had not been alerted to the presence of the intruder. It looked like the Welsh would be doomed after all. As the body was hauled up to the wall by Roman soldiers, he sank into thought. Perhaps there was some way he could stay the killing, save some lives at least…or perhaps there wasn't.

Tristan was watching him closely.

"Arthur" he began. "There's nothing you can do. Accept our mission and see it through"

The scout followed the soldiers up to the battlements, and Bors and Galahad said goodnight, neither of them wanting to stay up any longer. It was just like Tristan to see things objectively – the man had little human feeling, it seemed. But then, as knights, they often couldn't afford pity. Tristan was right – Arthur just didn't want to accept it.

* * *

Auria broke through the trees, reining her horse in as the battlements loomed up before her – imposing in the darkness. The moon was hiding behind a cloud – starlight lent some illumination, but all she could see was cold stone, and shadows against shadows.

It was chill, and her breath misted in front of her face, reminding her of the late hour. It was dangerous to be alone so close to the garrison, but she would have to get closer if she were to follow Theoden.

Just then, the moon broke through the clouds, and she gasped.

Hanging from the battlements, limp and lifeless, was a body.

* * *

Tristan watched as the Roman soldiers tied rope around the dead Welshman's midriff and slung him over the wall, attaching the other end of the cord to a huge iron ring embedded in the stonework. As soon as they were finished they went back to the courtyard, leaving one of their number to continue the watch, just in case more natives were about that night. As the man paced slowly off, Tristan leant against the chill parapet and surveyed the woods, thinking on what had transpired.

The moon broke through the clouds, almost full, and bathed the surrounding countryside in misty luminescence. The lonely scout saw his hawk silhouetted against the pale orb, wheeling down towards the trees. Towards a figure on horseback.

Tristan's eyes narrowed. Just discernable…barely beyond the tree-line, someone gazed towards him. No, he thought…they were gazing at the body.

Whoever it was wasn't dressed like a Welshman. They were wearing long, heavy robes which covered much of their horse's hindquarters. The colour was almost lost in the shadows, but the moonlight suggested it was red – a rich colour, ceremonial and rare.

'**Auria'**

It could only be her. Tristan knew to trust his instincts.

Her presence was certainly bound up with that of the Welshman's…but in what way? Had she come to oversee his mission? Or had she come because he had acted without her consent?

The woman's expression was hidden by distance and shadow, but she seemed to sit stiffly in the saddle…tense and watchful. Even as he studied her, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Sometimes body language spoke more than words ever could. She was disappointed, but the question remained as to why.

With a last glance along the wall, checking to see if she had been noticed but missing the well-hidden scout, she wheeled her horse and disappeared between the trees.

Tristan rarely got caught up in the affairs of men, but he had to admit that tonight was turning out to be most interesting…

* * *

Auria could have galloped back to the settlement, could have hurried to warn her people of the broken truce and their impending doom, but she knew there was no use. There was no sign of movement within the camp as yet…no more sentinels on the walls. If the Romans had made a decision to march – and doubtless they had – they would not do so until dawn, at least.

Besides, the number of injured was too high to run. The community had no hope of moving in time. Auria felt that she had led them to a dead-end. She was responsible for their deaths in battle, and by being too late to stop Theoden, she was condemning them to a Roman attack.

She dreaded going back, but she knew she must.

All she could hope to do was present them with the situation, and ask them what they wanted to do. She would die helping them to safety, or die defending them. It was the only way she could redeem herself.

Despite her misgivings about returning, the settlement drew ever nearer, and before long she had reached the group of shelters which made up her home. Dismounting her tired steed, she made her way to Ganal's hearth. Everyone was asleep, it seemed, but her old friend had waited up and ushered her inside before she'd even knocked. He knew from the look on her face that things had not gone well.

"What happened?" he prompted as Auria sat down heavily on the floor, wincing as her weary joints ached.

"I was too late" she said.

"What for?" He only knew what the old man, Danwel, had told him. How Theoden had gone to the fortress and Auria had gone after him. Ganal had a bad feeling, but needed to hear it put into words.

"Theoden must have attacked the fortress…I don't know. They hung him from the walls"

"Dead?"

"Yes. He broke the truce. They will come for us"

Ganal looked grim. "We cannot move the injured"

"I know"

"We cannot fight the Romans"

"I know…"

Auria looked so dismal…Ganal knew she held herself responsible, but he also knew

that she wasn't. He put a hand on her arm.

"It seems as if our time is up…but we will face our destiny with honour"

"I do not believe in destiny"

They fell silent for a long time, then Auria said;

"Perhaps we can save some…"

"How?"

"Create a decoy…I would not ask it of everyone, only volunteers. It would be a suicide mission, but it may work…"

"What would they do?"

"When the Romans come, we would lead them away from the settlement. There must be enough of us to look as if we are the settlement…some would have to play the part of the injured. If the Romans think they have defeated us, they will not look further. All those left behind here would have a chance of survival…"

Ganal sighed painfully. "It is a good plan…but I have a better one"

"Yes?"

"You may not like it"

Auria grinned without humour. "Try me"

"Those who are uninjured have a better chance of survival. I say anyone who can, should flee north to our cousins. It is true that the injured cannot be moved…perhaps they should be our sacrifice"

Auria stared at her friend. Leave the injured behind to die? It sounded more than harsh…it was cruel, sacrificing those who couldn't help themselves. Ganal saw the look in her eyes and tried to placate her.

"They would volunteer to do it, I am certain! It may seem evil to you now, Auria, but it would work! Some of us would stay behind to defend them as best we can, but those who can flee should not be asked to lay down their lives! You must let the children…women…everyone who wishes to leave…you must let them go!"

"I do not want to leave people to die"

"They would not ask anything else of you"

Auria knew that Ganal was right. Everyone who had a chance at life should be allowed it. She nodded eventually.

"I will stay and defend them"

"As will I" Ganal agreed.

"But who will tell them?"

"I will do that…it was my idea. You are already taking too much onto your own shoulders. Do not let their fate rest upon you as well."

"That is hard…I feel responsible"

"If you must blame anyone, blame Theoden. If he is remembered, it will be because he was the oath-breaker."

Auria was silent. A dark cloud had settled upon her. In it she could see the deaths of her people…no, the people she had grown up with. She also saw her own death amongst them.

She did not wish to die here…


End file.
